


Unfinished Fics: Bat Family Edition

by Birdlad (Argothia)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Underage Drinking, unfinished works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argothia/pseuds/Birdlad
Summary: Sometimes for whatever reason I end up with fics that I can't finish. Sometimes I have parts of those fics that I don't want to languish away on my hard drive forever but can't foresee using in any other fic. Sometimes I also have scenes cut from fics that have already been posted that were particularly good and it was a hard decision to cut them. That's what this is for.Individual rating on each chapter may vary but only between Gen and Teen.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. The Spider Incident

**Author's Note:**

> If you see a fic that you'd like to see finished let me know, if I can come up with something/it's not a cut from a different already posted fic, I'll try and finish it!
> 
> Also I apologize but none of these have been edited so there might be typos or odd grammar. Also some of them are from very early on in my writing of the Bat Family so the characters might seem a bit off from how I usually write them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story about being terrified of spiders as written by an arachnophobe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: December 2018

“Drake! If you kill Mathilda I swear I will beat you senseless!” 

“You just saw the damn thing ten seconds ago! How do you already have a name for it? …And fuck you!” 

Jason is infinitely intrigued by this snippet of yelling he hears as he passes the sitting room on his way to the kitchen and pauses. On the one hand, he's kinda hungry and butting into one of Tim and Damian's explosive arguments generally turns out badly for all parties involved. On the other though, what the hell could be so terrible that even Tim Drake wants it dead. Curiosity's winning out. He pokes his head in through the doorway. “What's the hubbub?” 

“Todd! Tell Drake he's being ridiculous and Mathilda is not deserving of death for just existi--” 

“It's not a fucking pet, Damian!” Tim snaps from… behind the couch, where he's apparently taken to hiding like it's some form of bunker? Okay, then. “Jay! Would you happen to have ignored the 'no guns in the manor' rule today or should I still call Steph?” 

“I ignore it every day, Replacement.” Jason inches a little further into the room, noting that Tim's glaring rather fixedly at a particular spot near the ceiling on the wall opposite him. “What's up?” 

Tim points, vindictively, which shouldn't be a thing, but apparently is. “That! The spawn of hell is up.” 

“She is not 'the spawn of hell', Drake!” Damian growls. “She is only a--” 

“Holy fucking shit!” Jason screeches, because he's finally spotted the source of the argument and, “No! Nope. Fucking Nope! Replacement's right. That thing's gotta die.” 

It's a spider. The size of Jason's palm. No way is he letting that stand. 

Damian however is insistent. “She's not even venomous. I can handle her myself.” 

“Then fucking 'handle her'!” Jason hisses moving to join Tim behind the couch where he has the best vantage point. 

Huffing furiously Damian moves to try and get the spider but quickly runs into a problem. “One of you get over here and elevate me!” 

“Hell no!” Is the unanimous response. Tim continuing after Jason falls silent again, “I'm not getting within ten feet of that thing!” 

Obviously beyond infuriated with the both of them, Damian stalks off through the door, calling, “If either of you two cowards harms so much as one of her legs, I will end you!” 

He says that like he honestly believes either of them is gonna get close enough to the fucking monster to even consider hurting it. 

Tim glances at Jason. “So… no guns?” 

“They're under my bed,” Jason answers, ruefully. “Otherwise I'd totally be taking potshots at that thing already… So, spiders, huh?” 

Grimacing Tim turns around and sits with his back against the couch. “Yeah… you know about the Council of Spiders?” 

“A bit.” From the files on the Bat Computer. 

“I went up against them while Bruce was missing and… let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant and there are things that I can never unsee.”


	2. Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: January 2018

It's been a particularly frustrating week for Tim. He's tired. He worked all day at WE trying to help R&D fix the problem with Bruce's latest batshit insane order. If it weren't for Lucius and Tam putting their collective foot down and telling him that they didn't want to see him again until he'd slept for more than two hours he'd be there right now. As it is, thanks to Two-face and Ivy breaking out of Arkham and immediately being at each other's throats putting innocent civilians in danger, Tim hasn't had time for that much sleep yet. Really honestly he doesn't know why he goes back to the cave with Bruce and Dick after the rogues were safely tucked into their beds in Arkham. Dick had just sort of tugged on his arm, just once, and Tim had found himself stumbling into the Batmobile sprawled out on the backseat. Resting. Then he'd stepped out of the car and there was Damian. 

Damian who was thankfully preoccupied with complaining at Bruce for being grounded for just long enough for Tim to take a shower and change into the clothes Alfred laid out for him, but didn't stay that way for long. The minute Tim had stepped back into the cave he'd felt Damian's laser focus land on him. He tries to ignore it, meanders over to the computers and sits down in one of the spare chairs taking over the smaller computer to Bruce's left. Bruce glances at him, looks like he might say something then seems to think better of it and goes back to updating his files. 

“Do you not have your own apartment to sully, Drake.” Damian hisses from nearby. 

Tim looks up at the bats high above them, wondering what he'd have to sacrifice and to which god for just a few minutes of peace. He brushes the thought aside and decides not to answer the new Robin. Again Bruce glances at him, obviously uncertain of whether or not to involve himself. Tim just shrugs at him. Bruce looks back at the computer screen.


	3. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Sasha watch a Wayne Gala on TV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: July 2016

“I'm pretty sure he's actually asleep.” Jason states, reclining on the couch in front of the TV. 

Sasha blinks and wanders over to see what he's watching. “Who?” 

“Replacement.” Jason waves a hand at the screen and Sasha squints at it. 

Apparently the Wayne Foundation was holding an event and the news thought that was incredibly important. Bruce Wayne was giving a speech while his three sons sat behind him. Richard between Damian and Timothy. The teenager to which Jason was referring had his head down with papers in his lap, it looked for all the world like he was reading something important. However to his left Richard was pretty obviously fighting an amused grin and Damian was leaning around his eldest brother to glare at Tim scornfully. Sasha frowns. “Why do you think that?” 

“He's fucking predictable.” Jason grumbles. “I bet he hasn't slept in like a week and something just snapped.” 

“Hm.” Sasha hums quietly and frowns as Jason's dog climbs up onto the couch to lay on her owner's legs. With a sigh Sasha turns her attention back to the screen just in time to see Wayne conclude his speech and Richard carefully elbow Tim in the ribs. The teenager jumps like a startled cat, but recovers immediately and starts clapping along with everyone else. Richard is nearly doubled over trying not to laugh and getting glares from both his brothers. 

“Told ya.” Jason snorts as he rubs his dog's ears. “He was out of it. Kid's gonna get in trouble for that someday.” 

Sasha looks down at him. “Why are you watching this?” 

“I'm waiting for Dickiebird to trip and fall face first into the refreshment table.” Jason murmurs, unconvincingly. “He does it every year, you'd think the media would've caught on by now, but no, they're just as surprised the twelfth time he deliberately makes a fucking idiot of himself so he can be excused as they were the first. There he goes, Dickie down, Dickie down! Aw, look at 'em scramble. The baby birds are getting to be damn fine actors. Oo, replacement's got the card to be back up tonight. Betcha the demon brat ain't happy about that. Wanna go mess with 'em on patrol?” 

“Not particularly.” She has no qualms with Tim really, the only time she's ever met him he smiled at her, this weird, awkward, sad smile and she's never had the heart to hate him since. She wonders if it's like that for all the girls he meets. Can they just not stay mad at him because he's so fucking awkward that it's adorable? She doesn't know. 

Jason shrugs and hauls himself off the couch like it's some great chore to do it. “Suit yourself.”


	4. The Adventures of Tim Drake and Underage Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small collection of snippets from stories where Tim gets caught drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written:  
> -October 2018  
> -April 2018  
> -January 2018

“Don't do it.” Dick warns as Tim snags a glass of champagne off a serving tray with the employee none the wiser. “If Bruce finds out he'll tell Alfred and Alfred will make you regret it.” 

Tim looks him dead in the eye and downs the entire glass in one drink. “Whoo, don't do what, Dick?” 

Dick rolls his eyes. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” 

***

“Hey, Dickiebird!” Jason gives him a disarming grin that would have had the desired effect had he not been supporting an only semi-conscious Tim Drake and both of them didn't seem to be drunk off their asses. “So… guess what I found out today?” 

Dick just stares for a long moment before realizing that the teen's question isn't rhetorical. “That both my middle brothers are morons?” 

“No.” Jason laughs a bit. “No, I found out that Timmy can't hold his liquor.” 

Nodding Dick tries to get close enough to snatch Tim away from his volatile drinking companion. “Uh-huh, well, I learned that you're both underage drinkers.” 

“Meh.” Jason's not so drunk that he doesn't catch on to Dick's plan and take a step back. “Oh, yeah, remind me to be, really, really fucking mad at you tomorrow. We deserve a better big brother. Right, Timbit?” 

***

Tim opens his eyes and for once he's grateful for how dark it is in the cave. Slowly, however the realization that he's in the Batcave with a hangover begins to sink in. “Shit!” 

He sits up far too quickly causing his head and stomach to launch a combined effort to kill him. Thankfully he manages to stop himself from throwing up but it doesn't help his headache any. Nor does it change the fact that he's sitting in his adoptive father's vigilante headquarters after a night of underage drinking. He's dead. Bruce is going to kill him. Maybe not intentionally, but Tim's absolutely certain he couldn't take a Batman glare right now. 

“Don't worry.” Dick sits on the edge of the bed suddenly, handing him a glass of water. “'Dad' isn't home and I didn't call him. You're safe, mostly.” 

Tim takes a sip and sighs. “Not from the Dick Grayson lecture though.” 

“Never from the Dick Grayson lecture.” The twenty-something replies, but he's stern for all of five seconds before just looking tired. “Why'd you go out drinking this time and please don't tell me there's a six pack in your fridge at home.” 

Shrugging Tim sets the glass of water aside and lays back down on the bed. “The bar was there and not of alcohol.” 

“I'm okay with the second answer.” Dick says, wearily. “Timmy, you promised me--” 

Tim rolls over to put his back to his brother. “Yeah, well, promises get broken, Dick.” 

“Brutal, baby bird.” Jason's voice grumbles from somewhere behind Tim. 

Dick sighs. “Not helping, Jason.” 

“Not tryna help, Dick.”

***

The door is locked, of course, and the windows as well, but Damian still manages to break in. There is no way in hell that he will actually knock on Drake's door. Especially not to admit he needs help with something. So he steps in and yells, “Drake! Drake, get out here I need intel and Gordon said you--” 

Damian stops as he notices the cocoon of blankets on the couch. He has heard of this. Apparently, when Drake is ill or upset he does this sort of thing as a form of comfort. Damian freezes then because he remembers the scar on Drake's abdomen and the discussion he had had with his League contacts in order to find out if it was something worth knowing for the sake of blackmail. It was, Drake no longer has a spleen. So if this cocoon is due to not feeling well then there might be a problem. “Drake?” 

He creeps a little closer when he gets no response, holding his breath in an effort to see minute details a little better. The blanket moves ever so slightly with the rise and fall of Drake's breath and Damian sighs with relief. He does not wish to be the person who finds Drake dead, mainly because no one would ever believe that he did not have something to do with it. 

So, yes, this once, he is quite grateful that Drake is alive. However there remains the problem of why the young man is unresponsive. If he were upset in any form his first reaction to Damian's greeting would have been anger. Carefully he tries again, tugging as gently as he can on the blanket near where Drake's head should be as he speaks in a voice that he will deny is anything like soft until his re-dying day, “Can you hear me?” 

He finally gets a response, a soft grunt of annoyance is succeeded by Drake's arm shooting out of the cocoon to grab Damian's wrist. “Ugh, knock it off.” 

“Are you ill?” Damian says, allowing Drake to hold his wrist, as it gives him an adequate method of determining whether the nuisance has a fever or not. Although it appears the young man's temperature is normal, his hand is shaking slightly and the grip lacks Drake's usual strength. “Drake?” 

“'m'fine.” Drake growls, releasing Damian's wrist to drag his arm back into the confines of his precious blanket. 

Damian tugs at the blanket again. “Well you seem ill! Get out here and speak with me or I will call Grayson!” 

“No!” Drake nearly bowls Damian over flinging his blanket back. “Don't you dare!” 

Wrestling the blanket off his head, Damian takes in the sight of his rival. Drake's eyes are squinted even in the dim light and he looks as though his own sudden movement made him nauseous. In his boxers and a sleeveless undershirt it's easy to see the bandages wrapped around his upper arm and thigh. A thin line of blood has seeped through the bandage on his arm and seems to be quite fresh. Damian sighs. “What assassin did you offend this time, Drake?” 

“Huh?” Drake glances at his arm, blearily. “Wha… no, this… it's just a scratch.” 

Damian raises an eyebrow. “Where do you keep your medical supplies?” 

“No.” Drake growls. “What'd you want, Damian, or are you just breaking into my house for fun now?” 

Shrugging Damian makes his way around the couch to the open kitchen area. If he knows Drake at all, which he does, then the medical kit will be tucked inconspicuously behind the coffee. Sure enough. He takes the box down, speaking casually. “Gordon informed me that you might be able to give me some intel that I need for a case. I had come to blackmail it out of you with the knowledge that you no longer possess a spleen, which you seem so intent on not telling anyone. However it appears I must put my plans on hold to drag your sorry ass out of whatever trouble you have gotten yourself into this time. Understand it is only for Grayson's sake.” 

Drake eyes him warily as he gets closer with the medkit. “I should stuff you in a trunk and mail you to hell, third class.” 

Damian smiles, the vicious expression he saves for Drake when he is trying to be amiable but the older teen is making it far too difficult. “And Grayson would receive all my files and find out anyhow. You truly are in a pickle, Drake. Now let me assist you, if I let you die of an infected injury Grayson will mope.” 

Drake snatches the disinfectant and bandages from Damian's hands almost viciously. “Back off, shrimp. My injuries are none of your business.” 

“Except you just made them my business by stating that they are not.” Damian growls in response. “That you are hiding them makes them suspicious.” 

The nuisance's expression turns dangerous. “I'm not hiding them I just don't trust you.” 

“You expect me to do what?” Damian crosses his arms. “Poison you? With your own medkit? Why would I do that?” 

Drake raises an eyebrow. “I don't know, why'd you cut my lines that one time?” 

“You were being an ass at the time.” Damian shrugs. It is not untrue. Drake had listed him amongst the people he regarded as dangerous. “…I knew you were competent enough to catch yourself.” 

Snorting Drake reaches for a bottle on the coffee stand. “Just be grateful you were on the list with the superheroes. I could have thrown you on the villains list.” 

“You still refused to trust me and work with me.” Damian responds, frowning at the liquid in the bottle. “What is that?” Drake looks down at the label. “Spring water.” 

“I see…” Damian has a hard time even beginning to will himself to believe that the substance in that bottle is anything like water aside from its status as a clear liquid. He can smell it even from this distance. “Then you will not mind if I…” 

He swipes the bottle from a very surprised Drake and brings it close to his face as Drake shouts, “Damian! If you so much as put that near your lips I will end you!” 

Recoiling from the stench of alcohol, Damian responds between gagging, “Gah, why would I ever? For that matter what are you doing with… whiskey? You are eighteen, Drake, last I checked that was underage.” 

***

Standing up very slowly, Drake crosses the room to his desk and opens a drawer. He sorts through the files for a few moments then pulls out one and turns around once more, holding the folder out for Damian's examination. “Everything you need should be in this, if there's anything else call me in about six hours. I should be more awake by then.” 

Taking the file Damian looks over it in silence. “You've been following my investigation…” 

“Don't read into that.” Drake says without emotion. “I make it a point to keep up on everyone's cases. Keeps me from stepping on toes and running into people I don't want to.” 

Damian nods and murmurs, “Like me.” 

“Like Jason.” Drake corrects him. “And sometimes you… Dick when I'm not feeling good, and Bruce when… well, yeah. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go nurse a hangover. Don't get killed or anything and call me if you need any more info… don't break into my house.” 

Nodding Damian tucks the file under one arm and starts to walk away. For a moment he hesitates in the door way and looks back at his father's adopted son. “Drake… if you do not drink plenty of water and die of dehydration or otherwise cause Grayson or Pennyworth to become upset I will end you.” 

Drake snorts. “Sure. Get going, gremlin.” 

***

“Damian!” Grayson calls as though he has hit upon a sudden revelation. “Have you seen Tim, lately?” 

Slowly Damian turns the chair he is sitting in to face his one time mentor and raise one eyebrow. While, yes, it has only been a few hours since he last talked with Drake, Grayson is not supposed to know the details of that encounter if at all possible and it is always best to go with vague denial first. 

“I know, stupid question.” Grayson raises his hands in surrender. “But like… he hasn't talked to anybody else and he's not answering his cell or comm… or door, so… I'm kinda worried is all and… you're my last stop before I break into his apartment.” 

Damian sighs, because it looks like he will be forced to the next stage, almost-lies. “I retrieved some files from him a few hours ago… he seemed busy at the time. Perhaps you are just missing him?” 

“I… You, talked to Tim, alone, and no blood was spilled.” Grayson asks incredulously and, well, technically. 

Rolling his eyes Damian responds, “Believe it or not, Grayson, I can be professional when it suits me and Drake is tolerable when he is distracted.” 

“Ooookay.” Grayson says with finality. “Gonna leave that one right alone. 'kay so I'm gonna go drop by his place and see if he wants to go out for pizza. You wanna come?” 

“No.” He has a feeling Drake will not either. “I have work to complete.” 

Grayson shrugs. “Suit yourself. See ya later.” 

“Mm-hmm.”


	5. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Robin!Jason try to bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: Unknown, some point in 2017 I think.

“Whatcha reading?” Dick grasps, awkwardly, for something to talk about. 

The teen raises one eyebrow until his curly black hair brushes against it. “Pride and Prejudice… Alfred recommended it.” 

“You like it?” Dick tries not to sound amused, knowing that it would just seem like he was teasing the kid. 

Jason must sense the amusement anyhow because he just hunches over and looks embarrassed. “A bit.” 

Dick smiles at him. “That's cool! I never could get into it myself… had… have a bit of a problem with sitting still, kinda dyslexic too, but it's gotten better… a bit.” 

A look of confusion crosses Jason's face. “You're dyslexic?” 

“It is commonly associated with ADHD.” Dick shrugs, then realizes that Jason's looking at him in pure surprise. “What? Lots of people are--” 

“No, I know that.” Jason puts his hands up in front of his chest, palm outwards. “I just… B never talks about that kind of stuff…” 

Dick laughs. “You're telling me he never tells you about me dashing around the manor at light speed while he tried desperately to catch up and keep me from swinging on the chandelier? Or the fact that I literally could not sit still for like the first year of being Robin. I jumped the gun so many times that it's a miracle the old guy didn't have a heart attack.” 

“No, he… never mentioned that.” Jason looks away. 

Leaning back against the couch cushions Dick reclines his head and looks up at the ceiling. “Well damn, Little Wing, you missed out on some great stories… Like the time I couldn't sleep so Bruce tried to tell me a story. It was the absolute crappiest story I ever heard and he fell asleep like halfway through it so Alfred and I had to just throw a blanket over him.” 

Jason snorts. 

Raising his head a bit Dick grins at the teen. “I am only a model citizen because of Alfie, I swear. Bruce would have ruined me.” 

“Alf's pretty great.” Jason agrees, with just the tiniest of smiles as he turns the book over in his hands. “It's fu—dging weird though… tryin' to think of you as some kinda mini-Flash, running around like you've got a lit match under your ass.” 

“Don't tell anybody.” Dick lowers his voice, conspiratorially. “But I was not, in fact, a perfect, well-behaved child. I'm pretty sure that some days Bruce was seconds from a complete mental breakdown trying to deal with me… of course, the feeling was mutual sometimes. He'd get all doom and gloom sometimes and I'd have to poke him in the ribs and call him a few choice names before he'd come out of it. Guy's a fucking jackass sometimes.” 

“Amen.” Jason mutters, darkly. “I mean… it's not like I don't get where he's coming from sometimes, but… it's like talking to a brick wall made of 'I am the night'.” 

Dick grins. “'I am the night, now do as I say and wash the batmobile, Robin!'” 

“'Remember it needs a new coat of wax this time.'” Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah… he thinks I'm too… reckless.” 

With a quiet hum, Dick shrugs. “What do you think?” 

“I think…” Jason lifts his hands up in a gesture that clearly shows he's trying to figure out how to express himself adequately. “I mean… yeah, I get mad easily… but I… I just…


	6. Handle With Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early-ish in his reintegration to the family Jason has to deal with some of Tim's issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: Unknown, some point in early 2017

There's a ding that signifies his order has been obeyed and a second later Dick speaks. “What?”

“Don't freak, nobody's hurt or dead, but I screwed up.” Jason keeps looking for the brat as he talks. “I have no idea what I did, but Red Robin vanished on me. I can't fucking find him and he won't answer his comm.” 

“Stop.” Dick orders, calmly, not an order to stop talking, but to stop moving. “Who were you up against?” 

Jason stands stock still. “Crane, but he didn't have time--” 

“Was Red Robin there before you?” Now he sounds worried. 

Scanning the area with his eyes, Jason answers. “Yeah.” 

“What did you say to him?” There's a tremble in his voice. “I mean… what did you call him?” 

Jason fights the urge to look towards the voice that he knows is in his ear, but instincts are instincts. “Same thing I always call him.” 

Dick groans loudly. “Dammit, Jay.” 

“Okay, so you trying to tell me that pretender has a fear of being called that that he hides every time he's around me?” Jason questions incredulously. “Because I have never seen him look like that before.” 

“No, Jay.” Dick growls. “He has… had a fear of disappointing you. It comes back in full force every single fucking time he gets hit with fear gas. Do you know how many times I've had to bald face lie to him? 'Of course he likes you, Timmy, now here take this antidote so I can stop feeling the bile rise in my throat because I absolutely hate lying to you'.” 

Jason swallows trying to make his throat stop feeling so dry. “I don't… hate him… not much.” 

“Take a second to tell him that.” Dick hisses. 

That's uncalled for. “Look I already said I screwed up, can we not try to make the zombie Robin feel worse about being a screw up? That'd be nice. I can't help it if the damn kid has a complex… or sixty. Just tell me where to find him so I can fix it.” 

“Cave.” Dick states plainly. 

Jason whines aloud. “You sure? Cuz I really don't wanna go there.” 

“Definitely. Walk in from the 'garage' and hang a right. He'll be there. Fix this, Jason.” 

It's easy to forget how vicious Dick becomes when he's protecting family, even or perhaps especially, from other family members. 

***

Jason follows instructions, entering the cave and hanging a right confronted with two sights. The first, his old Robin uniform in a glass case, a disturbing memorial. The second is Repla-- Tim, practically laying on the floor in front of it. Grimacing, Jason makes his way over and crouches near to the boy, it's more than a little telling that the brat doesn't even lift his head. Cautiously Jason reaches out and pats the nearest shoulder. “Kid?” 

Tim jumps like a startled rabbit, but doesn't look at Jason and remains silent. 

“Come on… Tim, we gotta get some antidote in ya.” Jason tugs at the teen's sleeve. “Up and at 'em. I mean, hell, try you know warning people when you get hit with that shit.” 

A visible shudder runs through the brat's body and Jason feels a pang of guilt when Tim curls in on himself. 

“Aw, shit…” Jason moves his hand up to Tim's head and gently tugs a section of hair, still trying to get the brat's attention. “Timbo, come on, I… look, you did good, okay? Like… seriously, I couldn't have finished that fight hopped up on Fear Gas… Shit, I'm an ass, Tim, just don't make me drag you to the Med Bay okay? I get the feeling that'd be a real killer to our… brotherhood?” 

Tim finally raises his head, eyes still glazed over and distant. Definitely fear gas. “Jason… I… I'm sorry.” 

Jason reaches out and pulls the boy upright. “Shh, baby bird, it's fine, come on…” 

Alfred's not home or he'd already be down here treating the kid, so Jason takes care of the whole thing himself. Sitting down on the gurney beside Tim after he finishes administering the antidote, he bumps Tim's elbow lightly with his. “Hey… ya know… I don't say it enough but you're actually an alright kid.” 

Tim doesn't really respond, just gives him a suspicious look. 

“I ain't lying promise.” Jason says. “I mean, there're definitely worse fuckers who coulda gotten the spot right?” 

Tim shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“Definitely.” Jason insists.


	7. Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tim have a very brief moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: February 2018

“Dad!” Tim's voice and that makes Bruce turn quick because Tim never calls him that anymore and--. 

His thought process is completely cut off when the teen tackles him, arms wrapped around Bruce's chest, face pressed into the singed Kevlar at his shoulder. The boy is shaking like a leaf and Bruce acts on instinct, practically lifting Tim off the ground, hugging him to his chest. Tim sobs slightly and this is very not like him. Then Bruce looks up at the burning building and realizes, far too belatedly, that Tim could easily have thought he was still in there. He squeezes Tim's shoulders tightly and murmurs into the boy's hair. “It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Tim nods, but doesn't let go. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--” 

“It's not your fault.” Bruce says, like an order, because otherwise the boy will doubt him and heaven knows Tim doesn't need to blame himself for something like this on top of everything else. “If I hadn't been here…” 

He presses the lower half of his face against the top of Tim's head as he trails off. It's sinking in a bit now. Certainly he'd almost died, but worse than that if he hadn't been there he would have lost Tim. He would have lost another son. 

“B!” The comm in his ear crackles to life with Dick's voice. “Are you guys okay?!” 

Bruce answers immediately. “We're fine. Got out just before the place went up. Where are you?” 

“Coming with the car and a pouty Robin.” He hears Damian make a loud squawk of protest in the background. Something about not being pouty at all and Dick being a liar.


	8. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to the meddling of Klarion, Thomas and Martha Wayne end up getting to meet their grandkids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: February 2017

“Let me get this straight.” Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. “After your mother and I died you became a nocturnal vigilante?” 

Bruce cringes. “Well… not directly after obviously…” 

Thomas sighs, but Martha pats Bruce's hand fondly. “You know he means to say he's proud, Bruce. We know you've done a lot of good… there was… there was a little boy some time ago that we talked to, he said he was your son, he talked all about all the good you've done for Gotham. We're so proud of you, Bruce.” 

“Thanks… Mom.” Bruce smiles just a little. “The boy… his name… was it--” 

Suddenly there's a crash from upstairs and the sound of Tim's voice yelling, “Jason! Put that down, you sore loser!” 

“I didn't lose! You cheated, you little fucker!” Jason roars in response. 

Bruce is already halfway up the stairs because, they may be on good terms right now but Jason and Tim can still be at each other's throats in a minute if given the opportunity. Their fights tend to be a bit on the brutal side too. He flings the door open as Tim tries reasoning, “Hey! The rules said whoever wins gets to have the last cookie, you never specified that I couldn't use cheat codes!” 

“That's bullshit and you know it.” Jason growls but slowly lowers the chair that it seems he was about to throw at Tim's head. Which would have been a difficult feat since the teen is crouched on top of one of the various antique cabinets in the room. 

Bruce steps forward, keeping his voice level, “Jason, put that chair down. Alfred loves it. Tim, cabinets are not made to be climbed on. If I have to I will start enforcing the rule of 'no acrobatics in the manor' on you too, young man.” 

Both boys growl in unison. “You're not the boss of me.” 

“My house.” Bruce responds, firmly. 

They exchange a look, that shows that the argument is officially over and both obey Bruce's commands. 

“Bruce… who are these young men?” Martha asks, peeking around her son at the boys. 

Jason goes a strange kind of rigid, his eyes widening significantly as he stares at the couple who just entered the room. Tim on the other hand, looks simply surprised, then his face falls into what Dick long ago dubbed the 'thinking face'. Bruce decides it's best not to let either form their own opinions. “Mom, Dad, these are my sons, Tim and Jason. Boys, these are your grandparents… there was an incident with Klarion.” 

“Time travel or spiritual manifestation?” Tim asks, tilting his head in that way that makes him look like a confused puppy. “No, wait, that's a stupid question. If it were time travel you wouldn't have allowed this meeting to happen so manifestation it is. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr and Mrs Wayne, my manners are elsewhere today, I blame Jason. It's wonderful to meet both of you finally!” 

The couple just stares for a moment before bursting into laughter. Thomas wipes a tear from his eye and speaks. “Like father like son, I must say. Except, why call us 'Mr and Mrs Wayne', son, aren't we your grandparents?” 

“Technically, legally, or sentimentally?” Tim asks. “Because technically, no, we're not related, Bruce adopted me. Legally, I am… was an emancipated minor, so no. Sentimentally, yeah, you are.” 

Bruce tries not to roll his eyes as he explains, “Four of my five children are adopted. Damian… my youngest, is the only one who isn't.” 

“Oh, I see.” Martha nods, then turns to Jason. “Are you the eldest?” 

Jason snaps out of whatever daze he was in and clears his throat. “Ahem, uh, n-no, ma'am, I'm the second kid… actually you and I have… sorta already met.” 

Bruce feels the ice in his veins again but just swallows it down and keeps listening. Martha frowns. “You do seem familiar.” 

“I died one time.” Jason carefully places the chair he's been holding on the floor and shrugs. “Came back angrier, got into a fight with dear ol' Dad… real surprised you don't know Timmy, considering how many near death experiences he's had.” 

Tim elbows him. “Like three of which were your fault.


	9. Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets a chance to scold Tim for chasing vigilantes through crime alley when he was an untrained kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: June 2017

“You know… I think I saw you once.” Jason mumbles half into the couch cushion. 

Tim looks up from his book, raising an eyebrow as he fights back a smirk. “Once?” 

“Back when… before.” Jason clarifies moving a bit so that Tim can see one of his teal eyes staring at him. “B and I were going out to take down Ivy. I was lagging behind because he was being a jackass and I looked down once. Saw this little flash and a kid looking up at us. You were sitting on a fire escape… I remember thinking 'That can't be safe' and I went back a to yell at you but you were gone.” 

Tim nods and raises his book a bit to hide most of his face. “I remember that… it was your second year as Robin… the fourth time I went out taking pictures. My parents had just left I was supposed to be heading to boarding school the next day. I took that picture and promptly fell off the fire escape into a dumpster… so yeah, yelling would have been an appropriate response.” 

“Mmf, glad we agree because, since I feel cheated not getting to yell at your stupid ass back then…” With greatly exaggerated effort Jason pushes himself up into a sitting position and glares at Tim. “What the hell were you doing roaming the city chasing vigilantes in Crime Alley, you little twerp?” 

Tightening his grip on his book Tim tries to act like he finds the words incredibly fascinating, when in actuality he barely sees them at all. “I felt like it… and I was like eleven? My concepts of danger were skewed.” 

“Bull...shit.” Jason says, bluntly, leaning forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come tomorrow, right now I must sleep.


	10. Freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "At least it beats this summer heat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: October 2018

“It's really you, right?” Tim's wrapped tightly in Jason's jacket and the Red Robin cape – which considering Jason just pulled him out of a sheet of ice courtesy of one Victor Fries is really not warm enough, but, hey, it's what Jason had to work with – and eying him so warily that the question is obviously not a joke. 

Jason scowls. “What the hell kinda question is that?” 

“I-I just mean…” Well, at least he's shivering, that's a good sign. “Th-this isn't your st-style. So I'm not re-real sure you're n-not a hallucination.” 

Adjusting the jacket around Tim's shoulders, Jason grumbles, “I'm unfortunately very real, Red. Ugh, did Freeze really have to go and ice the entire block.” 

“Mm, w-well, at least it beats th-this summer's heat.” Tim smiles a little then shivers violently and tucks his face down into Jason's jacket. 

With a sigh, Jason hugs the kid to his chest, sort of hoping that between the thermal heating in both their suits they'll stay warm enough. “We gotta get you some place warmer. O, any chance of us being able to grab the Batmobile? My bike's kinda frozen to the street.” 

The comm in his ear crackles a bit as she responds, “Batmobile's with B at the moment.” 

“Which is why I'm asking you and not actually looking for it.” Jason rests his head on top of Tim's. “No way I'm talking to him right now.” 

She doesn't acknowledge that. “I'll see about sending the car your way. Stay warm, boys.” 

“I'm trying,


	11. Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph got kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March 2019

“This sucks,” Steph grumbles, then lifts her head up off the floor so she can glare at the guard who’s supposed to be watching her. “You suck.” 

He rolls his eyes and goes back to pretending he can ignore her. 

“In the first place, what exactly are you trying to accomplish by kidnapping me? Me!? I’m like the last person Bruce Wayne will shell out any cash for,” Steph continues, tiredly, mostly to annoy the guard because dammit she’s bored. She knows very well that what she just said isn’t true, her and Jason Todd are the two people Bruce would probably give up his entire fortune for. Him and his stupid guilt complex. Is it any wonder where Tim gets it from? “I mean what even am I to Wayne? His son’s ex who stayed friends with the guy who broke her heart over a stupid argument? Yeah, that’s totally gonna get you loads of cash.” 

Credit where it’s due it takes this much whining for the guard to finally grumble, “Oh quit complainin’ already, Blondie.” 

“’Blondie’? ‘Blondie’!?” She doesn’t actually mind that nickname coming from people like Jason, but when random thugs say it it just seems rude. “Is that all I am to you people? Okay, know what? Just for that I’m gonna complain a whole heck of a lot more just to piss you off!”


	12. Watching The Watchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Barbara watching the rest of the Bats clean up a mass breakout from Arkham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March 2019

It's freezing in the cave as usual, but the task at hand is distracting enough that Barbara hasn't taken much note of the chill. She had taken over the computer in the cave when the breakout had happened some five hours ago now. Thankfully, it hadn't taken long for Batman and family to get the most dangerous escapees back behind bars within the first hour. Since then they'd just been rounding up the stragglers and even that looked like it'd be done soon. Maybe this would be one of those rare nights where nothing went wrong and no one got hurt. She can only hope. 

With a tired sigh she stretches her arms over her head, then blows on her fingers to warm them. She only jumps a little when someone sets a blanket over her shoulders. Smiling slightly as she looks up at Alfred she takes the cup of coffee he offers her, gratefully. “Well, fancy meeting you here, Alfred.” 

“Indeed.” He returns her smile. “Forgive me, Miss Gordon, but you did look awfully cold and as it seems we shall be at this a while yet…” 

“Thank you, Alfred,” she tells him. “Really, I appreciate it.” 

“My pleasure as always.” He looks up at the monitors and nods approvingly. “They're in rare form today I must say.” 

Barbara sips her coffee before responding, “Bruce didn't even throw that big of a fit when I told him Tim teamed up with Jason to take down Scarecrow.” 

Alfred’s mustache twitches, the only sign that he’s amused, and they all wonder where Bruce got his stoicism from.


	13. Bored In Wayne Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is bored. Damian is wary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March 2018

Grayson is bored. It takes no great effort to determine that when the grown man walks into the sitting room where Damian is attempting to play a video game and sprawls lethargically across the nearest armchair with a childish whine. 

Damian flinches at the sound, knowing that what follows is never particularly pleasant for him. Generally he ends up dragged, quite against his will, into some form of what might be termed 'familial bonding'. After their last disastrous attempt at this, which involved Drake and things said that neither he nor Drake regret, Damian is not eager for another round. It is not, however, like he has not been expecting this. Grayson has been laid up for the past week, ever since he fell off that fire escape and landed wrong on his bad leg. It is actually quite the miracle that Damian has been spared this fate for so long. It does not make it any less difficult to fight back an irritable sigh when Grayson starts talking. “Whatcha playin', lil D?” 

“Armistice 3.” Damian eyes his brother, warily. “I have been attempting to play the series as Kent is quite infatuated with it.”


	14. Cliffhanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Killer Croc goes south Damian and Tim get trapped in an old storm sewer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: Unknown, either late 2018 or early 2019
> 
> Quick note that 'Tim and Damian get trapped underground' is something of a frequent theme I tend to write. I have at least one other fic that runs along the same lines.

Drake is… he is not looking well and Damian is reluctant to admit it, but he is concerned. Not the least because at this particular moment there is nothing he nor anyone else can do about the injuries Drake sustained in the brief fight with Killer Croc that landed them in this position. Also maybe there is an aspect of guilt as those injuries only occurred because Damian had frozen, like a fool, when faced with the one enemy who never fails to make him… uncomfortable then Drake had swung in, like an even bigger fool, and kicked Croc in the jaw. Which had led to a brief fight and then half the already rickety unused sewer system caving in on them. Somehow of course they had wound up on the side of the cave in without exits. Now they are waist deep in dirty water. Well, Drake is waist deep. The disgusting brew would be nearly to Damian's chest if he were actually standing in it and not being held up as high as Drake can lift him. 

For his part, Damian can tell, Drake is panicking. Certainly he looks calm, but Damian has fought with him more than enough to know all his tells. More is the pity. The days when he knew barely anything about Drake were easier. Back then he could have missed the tightness in Drake's expression or at least not known immediately it was because Drake was holding him against at least one bruised – if not completely broken – rib. 

“Robin,” Drake says, suddenly, his eyes fixed on something above them. “If I give you a boost, do you think you could reach that pipe.” 

Damian looks up. The pipe in question is just large enough that Damian might be able to crawl through it. Drake could likely fit into it as well. Might be the best way out of this mess, but, “If you could lift me then perhaps… however in your condition that may be ill advised.” 

“Yeah well--” Drake grimaces at the rising water, “--We're running out of options here, so ill advised or not, I think we're gonna have to give it a shot. Ready?” 

He hates to admit that Drake is right, but there really isn't any other course of action. “Fine.” 

“Okay.” Drake takes a deep breath and sets Damian down before maneuvering into a better position and cupping his hands to give Damian a step up. “Let's do this.” 

Damian moves quickly worried about doing more damage to Drake, he takes only a moment to step from Drake's hands to his shoulders then vaults from that perch and catches the rim of the pipe. With an ease he gained more from being Robin than any training beforehand he lifts himself into the small space crawls forward then with some difficulty he turns around and looks back at Drake. It is not the prettiest of sights to be sure, Drake seems to have thought Damian would just keep going and allowed for a break in his composure. He looks very much like a dying, drowned rat. Instead of commenting on that – See, Drake, he is doing better – Damian clears his throat. “If you lift your staff up here I may be able to pull you up.” 

Drake, making no attempt to cover up his weakness, shakes his head. “Go, when you get to the surface you should be able to contact Oracle. Get her to send somebody.” 

“But…” But Damian does not like how breathless Drake sounds or how uncertain it is that he will be able to garner help before Drake drowns or that Drake is trusting him to save him. “Drake, I can pull you up just--” 

“Go, Damian,” Drake snaps and there is a look on his face, a set to his jaw, an over all familiar expression that tells Damian all he needs to know. “This is the only way out of this.” 

Damian grinds his teeth, but nods. “If you shame us all by dying before I return with help I will be extremely peeved.” 

With that he turns and starts down the disgusting tunnel, ignoring Drake's amused huff behind him. “Yeah, sure, brat.” 

It takes far longer than Damian would have liked to get to an appropriately sized exit to the dank, horribly smelling passage, but soon enough he's able to kick through a broken piece of the wall and slide out into a far more open, newer section of the sewer. Good, he should be able to find his way to the surface from here. He tries to calculate as he runs, just how much time Drake has left. Even if Drake could make it to the tunnel, Damian doubts he would be able to crawl down it as far as Damian had without effectively puncturing a lung. Still he thinks he has enough time. 

Reaching a manhole he climbs up and tries out his communicator. “Robin to Oracle, come in!” 

“Robin! Thank goodness! We were--” 

“Where is Batman?” He cuts her off, urgently, hoping she will forgive his transgression this once. “Or Nightwing?” 

“They're on their way to your location right now.” She sounds as though she is trying to reassure him. “They were trying to get into the cave in, but Croc was blocking the way.” 

Damian shakes his head. “Tell them they need to turn back! Red Robin is still trapped!” 

“Red is-- Understood!” The connection remains on as she switches on the links to Nightwing and Batman. “Nightwing, Batman, Robin says that Red is still--” 

“I'm on it,” Father's voice interrupts. 

Damian pulls himself out of the manhole. “I will be there soon.” 

“No, Robin, wait there for Nightwing,” Father instructs. 

“I am fine,” Damian retorts. “Red Robin is--” 

“Stay where you are,” Father commands, leaving no room for further arguments. 

Damian does not wait long before Grayson appears and immediately sweeps him up into a tight embrace, which Damian allows, if only because Grayson will regret it in a moment. “Ugh! Robin, you smell like sewer!” 

“Your powers of deduction are astounding, Nightwing, how did you guess where I have been all night,” Damian deadpans. “Now about--” 

He is cut off by a loud crack from several meters down the street. Grayson nearly drops him in surprise. “What the hell?”


	15. Bad Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March 2019

The first thing Tim's aware of, as he starts to slip back into consciousness, is a dull ache in his arms. His mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, his thoughts are sluggish, and it's hard to open his eyes. All synonymous with waking up from being drugged to discover he's been kidnapped. So he's not particularly surprised when he finally fights his eyelids open and discovers he's tied to a chair in a dark room. He groans and shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It feels like his brain's turned to slush, which sucks, majorly. 

Hissing as the ache in his shoulders turns abruptly into a sharp stabbing pain at his movements, Tim slumps against the chair back, giving his poor arm muscles a break. Glancing around he figures out a few things. This isn't an amateur job for one thing, the room is too pristine for that, he's not in some abandoned building or a warehouse or something like that. This looks more like an interrogation room, although there's nothing like a two way mirror around. 

The next point that he notes with some chagrin is that he's in civilian clothes. Which means one of two very unfortunate things. Either this is a professional who decided to kidnap a Wayne kid and get some ransom money, meaning Tim can't pull off any high profile stunts without risking exposing secret identities, or it's someone who already knows and wants something, in which case Tim is seriously screwed. 

With another, more frustrated groan Tim lets his head loll back and closes his eyes. “This sucks.” 

“Language, Timothy.” The elegant, feminine voice, banishes the last of the fog from Tim's mind and replaces it with terror. 

He lifts his head quickly and stares as the woman crosses the distance to stand in front of him. “Talia?” 

She doesn't smile like her father would have, just stares down at him, the hatred in her eyes matching that of Damian's when he first arrived at the manor. She's the reason for that. Without her influence so many things would have been different. Some better, some worse. Above all things Tim knows one thing, Talia hates him. For so many reasons. “Welcome back.” 

“You… you kidnapped me?” Tim ventures, because if that's the case then he can't think of a single reason why he's not already dead. He figures she would have been ecstatic to rid her and her son of the barrier he represents to them. Doesn't matter that they're imagining things and Tim has no interest in joining the League of Assassins no matter how Ra's tries to sweeten the deal nor is he terribly interested in being Batman. 

Talia shifts her weight and responds, simply, “I did.” 

“…Should I ask why?” Tim questions, cautiously. 

She huffs, softly, and looks away from him. “Worry not, boy, this is nothing to do with you. I merely wish to see how far he has fallen.” 

“Who?” Tim feels like he's on thin ice with that question. 

She doesn't answer, just stares at him for a long moment before speaking again, “I wonder what they see in you. Brilliant you may be but that did not save you from my trap. Still they trust you with their lives like fools. Even my father has become ensnared by the charm of your analytical skills and yet here you are, so easily my prisoner. Truthfully, killing you now before you can fail them so spectacularly as you have failed yourself here would be the best thing for all of them, my son included… I should put you out of their misery…” 

Tim stares back levelly. He's well aware of the situation he's in and he doesn't need her to tell him that there's no good reason why he's kept around, thanks. Honestly, there's some slowly quieting part of him that wants her to do it. Kill him. But he dulls that desire with the knowledge of what it would do to his family. He won’t make them go through that pain again because of him.


	16. I Won't Become You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bat Family's adventures with a future where everything goes to hell and Tim becomes an evil-ish Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: Various  
> -November 2016  
> -January 2018  
> -Some point in 2016  
> -July 2017  
> -February 2018-ish

[Cemetary]

“What the hell just happened?” Jason drags himself off the ground ignoring Dick's offer of assistance. “Where'd Klarion send us? I swear if I get my hands on that little magical twerp I'll--”

“Quiet, Hood.” Damian growls, obviously on guard. “I do not like the look of this place… a cemetery? And where is Red Robin?”

Dick looks around, Damian's right, they've landed right in the middle of some kind of cemetery and Tim is nowhere to be seen. Bruce is already running some kind of diagnostic on the area, probably trying to get a read on the situation or get in contact with Tim. Considering the recent atmosphere between those two it's probably the former. “I'm not sure, Robin… Jay, don't wander off.”

Jason stops midstep but glares at Dick for the order. “Don't tell me what to do.”

“Sure, but we don't know what this place is like for all we know we could all be dead in this universe and--”

“You're not.” A voice states with amusement. “But at least two of the rest of you are.”

Dick jumps and spins around to find the origin of the voice. It's Batman, but smaller with some variations on the costume. “Who--?”

“Unimportant.” The man responds, abruptly. “I like my question better. How did you get here?”

Bruce looks the newcomer up and down once and puts away his tech. “Klarion sent us somehow… what are you doing in that cowl?”

“If it's Klarion we're dealing with than we'll need another method to get you all home. He's not talking to me and Zatanna is dead.” The other Batman hardly looks in Bruce's direction, keeping his attention mainly fixed on Dick.

Dick crosses his arms. “Seems like a lot of people are dead in this 'verse.”

“Shit happened.” The young man shrugs, nonchalantly.  
With that alone Dick places the voice. It's older and disguised with the growl of Batman, but there's no mistaking it. “Tim?”

“Back on topic.” Completely ignoring Dick's question the other Batman continues, “I can send you home, but I'll need to get my tools from the Cave. It's better if you joined me there and changed out of your uniforms. Don't let anyone see you. I don't know about your Gotham, but this one is not welcoming to strangers… or Bats.”

The dark clad figure strides off between the gravestones, his gloved hand almost lovingly grazing each stone he passes. Dick swallows, hesitant to read the names on any of them, as he follows this strange version of Tim along with their brothers and father. One or two do catch his eye though. Edward Nygma and Harvey Dent rest alongside stones bearing the names of Bette Kane, Onyx, and, even, Cassandra Cain.

“Holy fuck…” Jason breathes the words, quietly. “Is everybody dead here?”

This universe's Batman shrugs. “Those that aren't have left Gotham for good.”

“Except for you.” Damian's words sound like an accusation rather than a question.

The dark figure turns slightly, nothing about his demeanor changing as he nods. “Except for me.”

***

The trip to the cave is mostly silent, no one can find any words when they see the state of Gotham, in ruins with people hiding in the shadows trembling in fear, and their host seems to have nothing to say. Once their safely within the cave, Bruce does speak though. “What happened, Tim?”

Dick is about to turn his gaze back to his alternate brother, but instead he gets hit in the face with a t-shirt. “Blargh! What the hell?”

“I don't have a whole lot here… there might be some of your stuff left up in the manor.” Tim hums, not answering Bruce's question and outright ignoring Dick's outburst as he takes a seat in front of the monitors. “You're welcome to take a look but the power's been out for about three years so… unless you can find a candle you'll be in the dark.”

Bruce turns his voice stern as he looks up from the outfit Tim had tossed at him. “Tim…”

“Bruce.” Tim returns pulling the cowl back and glaring directly at his mentor. His hair is tied back, but obviously otherwise ignored. There's a new highly visible scar running down the side of the young man's face. “This is a future timeline we both know that messing with them is a terrible idea, so don't ask questions.”

The older Bat narrows his eyes but backs down, for the most part. “Why's the power out?”

“I stopped paying the bill.” Tim finally responds. “It's more convenient to live down here.”  
Jason looks him over. “So you gave up the secret identity thing?”

“That went out the window as even an option when he died.” Tim says jerking a thumb in Bruce's direction. “But that's getting into a 'questions I'm not going to answer' zone so we'll leave it at that.”

“Am I still dead in this verse?” Jason asks almost casually.

Tim shrugs. “Frankly, I don't know. You were alive but after we had one talk years ago… I haven't heard anything about you since. I assume you're working with Babs or quit the vigilante business.”

[Alternate Jim Gordon]

“Dick Grayson, what the hell are you doing here?” James Gordon exclaims, there's something like panic in his voice, then he seems to realize that the man standing in front of him is about ten years younger than the version of this universe. “Wait… you're not him are you?”

Smiling slightly Dick turns back to the gravestone in front of him. “No. I'm actually from an alternate past. My Tim averted this scenario in my time.”

“I… I see.” Jim joins him at the gravestone. “You should probably not be out here in the open. If… if the Bat catches you it could turn nasty.”

Dick shakes his head. “Don't worry. He knows I'm here. Actually, I'm not here alone either. Over there see.”

Jim looks over at where the three youngest boys are gathered around Alfred's headstone. “Is that…?”

“Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Dick says, flatly. “My little brothers.”

The former commissioner takes a step towards them then pauses. “Damn… your Tim looks so… I'm sorry, Dick. If I had been paying attention, this universe's Tim never would have become the man he is.”

“If I know anything about Timmy, it's that he does whatever he wants and nobody can stop him, Jim.” Dick pats the old man's shoulder. “Sometimes even he can't manage that feat. I'd like to hear what happened though…”

Jim nods and turns back to Dick. “After Bruce died I thought for sure you'd take over as Batman, but you'd retired and moved away somewhere far away from all this with your two kids.”

“Two kids?” That's a new one.

With a small laugh Jim pats his arm. “You adopted Bruce's youngest there and had a little girl of your own with that alien lady. Anyhow, for a while Tim stayed Robin and refused to become Batman, but around the time he turned seventeen Duela went nuts and started killing everyone she could get her hands on. She killed his girlfriend, though I'll say the details on that are sketchy and I'm not entirely sure he didn't do it himself on accident. Anyway after that he straight up disappears for three years and the first thing he does after coming back and donning the mantle is shoot Nygma in the head. By that point Duela had gone into hiding. He drew her out and shot her in the face, in Bruce's office… After that something big must have happened because he vanished again. We discovered his old hideout thanks to an explosion caused by some fighting with the Titan's East, but the minute they were gone he relocated. You wouldn't happen to--”

“Sorry.” Dick gives him an apologetic smile. “He has us holed up in an old base and won't tell us where he's staying. He sends updates on the situation to Tim's tablet. Ha, I've only seen him without the cowl once since we got here.”

Jim sighs and gives Tim another sad look. “Could I talk to him?”

“If you think you'll have better luck then the rest of us.” Dick shrugs. “He's been pretty quiet since we got here.”

Swallowing roughly, Jim walks across to where the other three are still lingering, Dick follows. Jason notices their approach before the other two and turns to face them. Jim gives him a slight nod in greeting. “Jason. It's good to see you well, son.”

“'Well' is a relative term.” Jason snorts. “But I'm not dead and I ain't as crazy as I used to be, so yeah, I'm good. Great to see you too, Commish.”

Jim shakes his head. “You don't change, do you?”

“I'll have you know I can pretty damn changeable.” Jason grins. “Ask little Red.”

Damian gives Jim an appraising look. “Commissioner Gordon, it is nice to see that you have not also gone completely mad like everyone else in this strange universe.”

“Hello to you too.” Jim smiles a bit at the boy then turns to Tim who is only partially facing him, steel blue eyes so distant and vaguely cold. The old man reaches out with both hands and takes old of Tim's shoulders. “You're a good kid, Tim, don't ever forget that.”

That brief assurance finally brings a smile to Tim's face. A genuine, head bowed, embarrassed, patented Tim smile. One of the tiniest acknowledgments of joy known to man, second only to Bruce's 'proud dad' smile. “That's kind of you to say, Mr Gordon.”

“It's only the truth, son.”

[Never]

The door to the sitting room smacks loudly into the wall making Dick jump in surprise. Despite how quick he turns he's only just in time to recognize that the person marching across the room to the grandfather clock entrance to the Bat Cave is Tim. Tim who's been avoiding the manor like the plague for months now only appearing when it's absolutely demanded of him.

Dick tilts his head as the boy turns the hands on the clock. “Uh, Timmy?”

“I'm kinda busy, Dick.” Tim states without losing focus.

Setting his book down on the coffee table, Dick gets up to follow his little brother. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Getting rid of me.” A new voice joins the conversation and Dick immediately drops into a defensive stance, he'd been so concerned with his little brother's sudden arrival he hadn't noticed that the younger man had been followed into the room. The newcomer isn't much taller than Tim, indeed he's not much different from Tim at all. Older, colder, dressed in dark clothes that look nothing like Tim's current wardrobe, but unmistakably similar. The stranger smirks at whatever look he sees on Dick's face and speaks dryly. “Relax, Dick, I'm not dangerous.”

“Yes, he is.” Tim amends.

The stranger shrugs. “I'm not dangerous to you.”

Dick slowly looks back to his little brother. “Um, should I ask?”

“No.” Tim doesn't meet his gaze, choosing instead to glare at the stranger. “As for you. Cave. Now. We're going to figure out a way to get you back to your own time line if it kills me.”

“I'd say I'm surprised you're bold enough to tempt fate like that, but… well.” The stranger gestures vaguely with one hand.

Tim puts his face in one hand and groans aloud. “I'm never helping Zatanna with anything ever again. Look, I'm sure you want to get out of here as badly as I want you out so can we just get this over with?”

“How sure of that are you?” The man crosses his arms. “You've seen where I come from, you know how I think--”

“I'm not you and you're not me.” Tim snarls. “Never.”

The stranger raises his chin. “We both know that's not true.”

“Hold up!” Dick rubs his temple as he holds up a hand for silence. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before turning to the stranger. “You're… Tim?”

The man nods despite the hissing sound his younger counterpart makes. “From an alternate future time line. Confusing I know, but when isn't anything in this business.”

“Point, but… can I get a briefing here?” Dick asks looking between the pair.

Almost immediately, Tim growls, “No, he's leaving as soon as I can figure out how to send him back.”

Older Tim shakes his head. “If Zatanna couldn't do it what makes you think you can?”

“I'm motivated.” Tim slides the clock out of the way and starts down the stairs. “Now let's go.”

Casting a look in Dick's direction, Older Tim remains where he is. “Maybe I want to stay up here and talk to Dick instead.”

“Do whatever the hell you want.” Tim shouts back in frustration then disappears into the darkness of the cave.

Dick watches him go then turns to the strange visitor. “Alright, so… what's happening?”

“I'm not entirely aware of the circumstances.” The man leans against the nearby couch. “But apparently, Tim agreed to help Zatanna with a task that somehow involved the Witch Boy. Klarion, well, he doesn't dislike Tim and Teekl rather likes us, so he usually goes a bit easy on us, although even that isn't a definite with that annoyance, anyhow, he was apparently in the right mood because instead of doing something worse, he decided to just curse Tim to be haunted by one of his greatest shames. That's why I'm here and not in that Starbucks in San Fran getting coffee.”

“Okay, that much makes a sort of sense.” Dick sighs. “But how are you Tim's greatest shame?”

Older Tim seems unfazed by the idea. “Surely you know of the time the Titans went to the future?”

Dick's starting to see where this is going. “You're evil Tim.”

“At the very least I'm Anti-hero Tim, yes.” He snorts and looks away. “Damn, this place is nostalgic and you and me actually on speaking terms. What a miracle.”

Watching the dangerous man carefully Dick moves to a less vulnerable position and stays on guard. “Kory said that in that future she and I lived far away from all the conflict. I never tried to… to stop you?”

“You did.” Tim traces the seam on cushion attached to the back of the couch. “I chased you out. It was… better that way.”

“How so?” Curiosity is getting the better of Dick, but he can't help it.

Tim runs a hand through his hair. “You had a family, far away from Gotham, you and Kory left the superhero business. That's why I took over the Batman role without a single complaint from you. Until you learned that I went to Ra's for extra training and made a deal with him. That's when you showed up at the cave trying to… I don't know, save me from myself.”

“You made a deal with Ra's?” Dick understands his counterpart's concerns. “Tim--”

“I heard that lecture the first time, thanks.” Tim laughs, wryly. “'Tim, are you out of your mind?' 'You know he's always been too fond of you.' 'Don't do this to yourself, little brother.' Yeah, I heard it all… but I didn't listen. I knew better. I still know better. I had to do something, and if that meant selling my soul to insure that I… that no one else I loved had to die… well, I don't regret it.”

Dick takes a step toward the obviously distressed counterpart of his little brother, not really certain what he's going to to do. So much of him wants to wrap the tall man in a tight hug and never let go. How much of that is just what he wants to do to the younger version in the cave or genuine concern for this destroyed young man, he's not sure.

“Dick, is everything--” Bruce gets no further in his statement, noticing the visitor in their living room and the small knife that seems to almost materialize out of Older Tim's sleeve the minute Bruce spoke.

As he realizes who the newcomer is, Older Tim drops the knife and breathes a sigh of relief. “Dammit, Bruce.”

Bruce doesn't even attempt to put on the upbeat persona, glaring at the stranger in his sitting room with full on Batman intensity. “Who the hell are you?”

If the sight of his apparently dead mentor has any affect on Tim at all, it doesn't show. “I'm Tim… except not.”

Bruce's guard remains firmly up, but his eyes flick towards Dick. “What's going on?”

Taking that as his cue to get back into the conversation, Dick responds. “Bruce, meet Timmy's alt-future, Batman self.”

That explanation does not help the situation. Great going, Dick. Bruce gets even more tense, apparently having a better memory of that one very short report Tim had turned in on the time travel incident than Dick does. “What is he doing here?”

“He is stuck here.” Older Tim explains, blandly. Yeah, okay, that definitely means he's affected by Bruce's presence. “Much to the chagrin of his younger self. Which was a delightfully weird thing to get to say, thanks so much for that. I'm going to go see if Timmy has finally given up and decided to drink coffee until it's coming out his ears yet.”

“Uh, I don't think so.” Dick grabs Older Tim's arm. “I don't know if you know Damian, but he's down there and he wouldn't appreciate an unaccompanied stranger in the cave… it might make it worse that you're Timmy's counterpart.”

Tim looks surprised for a moment then murmurs almost to himself. “Dami's living here?”

“'Dami'? Only I call him that.” Dick feels like the world is going topsy turvy.

Stepping away from Dick and dislodging the loose grip on his arm, Tim responds, “If I'm right than Damian and I's relationship is very different in my future. He lived with me for years, then like an idiot he got himself killed.”

“I do not appreciate that form of address, Drake.” Speak of the devil, Damian appears on the stairs, dressed in his usual work out clothes with a towel draped across his shoulders, he glares at Older Tim. “I was informed that there was another version of him here, but what exactly are you?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “I'm Tim's murderous, alt-future self.”

“Murderous?” Dick hears his own exclamation of surprise echoed by Bruce.

This earns them a look of incredulity, before Tim seems to understand what happened. “Ah, he didn't put that part in the report.”

“No, he did not.” Bruce growls on guard once again. “What do you mean by that?”

Tim looks up at the ceiling, for a moment before starting down the stairs around Damian. “I don't have to explain myself to either of you. Now if you'll excuse me.”

Nobody stops him this time. Dick just rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “This is weird.”

“This is bad.” Bruce corrects. “We need to get rid of him. The last time Tim spent any time around that man…”

***

Tim doesn't look up from the computer when his counterpart leans on the desk nearby. “Weren't you going to stay upstairs and talk with Dick?”

“It got a bit too crowded for my tastes.” The irritation responds. “Living almost totally alone for almost eight years gets you used to a certain way of life.”

The computer is frustratingly lacking in information on Tim's current predicament and being guilt tripped by his evil alt-self is not helping. “Shut the hell up, I am not dealing with you hanging around for the rest of my life.”

“Hm.” The cave goes quiet for a few minutes. “It sounds more like you just don't want to accept that you're still becoming me.”

Tim stands up and whirls around pulling out his bo staff in the same motion with every intention of smacking the older version in the face with it. He stops in the next second with his staff inches from the other Tim's head and the muzzle of a gun pointed in his own face. Neither of them moves for a long moment, then his older self withdraws the taboo weapon and aims it upwards as he rests it against his shoulder. Tim glares. “Put that away before Bruce sees it.”

“That's right, you didn't tell them about me did you.” The older man stores the weapon back in it's concealed holster.

Tim slams his weapon into the desk, it's sturdy it can take it, and growls, “You killed people! Gotham looked like hell! There's no fucking way I could tell them about what you did to their city! It would have… just fuck you okay! You're going right back where you came from and I hope you rot in hell.”

“Ah, self-destructive tendencies. You're never gonna grow out of those, believe me.” The man laughs.

Finally storing the bo staff back in his belt Tim turns away from his older self and back to the computers. “I will never become you.”

“Mm-hmm.” The man fiddles with his sleeve. “You're not going to find anything. Trust me.”

Tim groans. “Go get hit by a bus.”

***

“Okay, why is there a group meeting going on in the living room?” Jason asks as he steps over the threshold. “What'd I miss?”

Damian's the one who responds. “The appearance of Drake's, apparently, murderous, future self.”

“Alt-future.” Dick corrects, hastily.

Jason just stares. “Uh, okay… I'm just gonna nip down to the cave and grab some stuff. Everybody cool with that?”

Dick shrugs. “If you wanna feel very confused, be my guest. Both of them are down there and Timmy is very easily goaded into arguments with him.”

“Maybe it would be better if at least one of us went down there to stay.” Bruce says warily eying the entrance to the cave. “I don't trust that man.”

Dick nods, then seems to catch himself and shakes his head. “No, wait, what are we doing? That's… that's not even our Timmy. He's a totally different person. He's Batman where he comes from for goodness sake--”

“Replacement gets to be Batman in an alt-u?” Jason throws his hands up in exasperation. “He keeps kicking me whenever I jokingly call him Batman when he's acting like Bruce. What the hell!?”

Gesturing toward the open portal to the cave, Dick says, nervously, “Believe me, this guy's the reason.”

“Wha--” Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and holds up a hand. “No, wait, I'm gonna go get the stuff I left here last night and see if Replacement can tell the story better, you guys are just making me confused.”

He slips past the whole group before anyone can try any more explaining. It's hard enough wrapping his head around the idea of an older Tim, that this person is also from another universe entirely is beyond confusing. It only gets worse when he hears two versions of the same voice arguing below in the cave.

“You actually think he's just going to have a website out there with a list of spells and how to undo them?” The less familiar version intones with a hint of amusement.

The other responds with the level sound that indicates he's controlling his irritation. “This is Klarion we're talking about, you never know what he's going to do.”

“You have a point, but you can learn to predict the Witch Boy in one way alone, if it's nice, convenient, or good, he doesn't deal in it.” The first voice remains unimpressed. “Oh, by the by, we've got company.”

Jason can finally make out the pair, the younger seated by the monitors looking over his shoulder at Jason and the elder just blatantly staring. It's like he just walked into a room with a pair of creepy cats. “Uh, hey, Replacement...s? I'm just… I left my helmet here after patrol last night so…”

“Hey, Jay.” Younger Tim drones, almost sounding upset. “Meet my evil future doppleganger. He's leaving as soon as I figure out how to reverse Klarion's spell.”

The very edge of Older Tim's mouth twitches upwards like he's about to smile, but it never gets that far. “By which he means, never.”

Younger Tim puts his head down on the desk. “You two will probably get along swimmingly.”

The older counterpart shoves himself away from the desk and walks over to Jason, extending a hand. “Hi there, I'm Tim Wayne.”

Jason raises an eyebrow and looks around the oddity at Replacement. When he gets no response to his unasked question he shakes Weird Tim's hand. “Yeah, hey, I'm Jason Todd, but you probably already knew that.”

“Yep.” Tim Wayne laughs. “Actually, we knew before Bruce and Dick did. Right, Tim?”

Replacement groans. “Only like a week before.”

Jason scowls. “How?”

“Please.” The new guy snorts. “I was trained by Lady Shiva, you think I can't tell when someone isn't acting? Especially when their pulse is only a couple of inches from my ear. That scar sticks by the way.”

The last statement is directed towards Replacement who makes a high pitched keening sound. Jason blinks very slowly. “Well, you're gonna be fun.”

“Glad someone thinks so.” The young man chuckles.

***

“Any luck?” Dick asks as he sets down the coffee he'd brought for his little brother.

Tim groans, while his older doppleganger responds with a slight smirk over the top of his wine glass. “Not a bit.”

Dick eyes the man for a second before actually turning to him. “Okay, look, if you're gonna be here any longer, which is looking likely--”

“Unfortunately.” Tim grumbles while his older version snorts with amusement.

Ignoring them both Dick continues, “--Then we need something to call you, because having two Tims running around is getting really confusing.”

“Hm, fair point.” The young man sips his drink. “What about Alvin Draper?”

Tim grunts. “Won't work. International art thief now, haven't come up with a new one.”

“Wait what?” Dick frowns at this new information.

His little brother rolls his eyes. “Happened while Bruce was 'dead'.”

“Oh.” Yeah, there was a lot of stuff Tim did then that Dick, and really most of the family, don't and probably shouldn't know.

The older Tim leans back against the desk and hums, thoughtfully. “Well then, why not 'Jackson'… it's technically part of my name so…”

“…Sounds good to me.” Tim sighs and reclines in the chair. “I'm out of luck here so, until Zatanna calls, we're stuck with this annoyance.”

Dick nods slowly. “Well, if we're stuck with him, we're stuck with him… what's his story while he's here.”

“Uncle Ed's illegitimate son.” Jackson states flatly. “I think 'bastard son' suits me pretty well.”

The corner of Tim's mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly for half a second. “Fine.”

Jackson grins into his glass. “Glad we're in agreement.”

“Okay.” Dick leans on the back of Tim's chair and glances over at Jackson. “How old are you anyhow?”

“Twenty-eight, so, yes, Dick, it's completely legal for me to be drinking alcohol.” The young man responds. “I'm what… two years older than you?”

Dick shrugs. “I just never thought Tim would start drinking.”

“Hm, losing everything you love and dealing with a monster on par with the Joker alone for five years or so and you find yourself doing a lot of things you never thought you'd do.” Jackson yawns. “And I don't drink much, usually, but I've got the opportunity to drink all my old favorites from granddad's cabinet all over again, of course I'm gonna take it!”

“Infallible logic.” Dick responds with a solemn nod. “Er… should we have Alfred set up a room for you here?”

Jackson goes completely tense at Alfred's name. “Hrm… maybe it'd be better if I stay with Tim…”

“Not happening.” Tim growls. “One of us would end up very dead within an hour.”

The older man laughs. “'Very dead', huh? Remind me to ask Jason if that's better or worse than regular dead.”

***

“We're calling him 'Jackson' now, hm?” Bruce mumbles as he sips coffee like it isn't scalding hot and listens to Dick ramble about their newest, possibly temporary addition.

Dick nods. “Decided last night. Along with the fact that he's staying at the manor. Though I guess he's done a top notch job of avoiding Alfred like the plague.”

“Me too.” Bruce yawns before clarifying for his surprised son. “I haven't seen him. Seems like he's avoiding me too… Jackson fits him… It was his grandfather's name if I'm not mistaken. Jack's father, I mean. I only met him once when I was a child… but he seemed to be a cold man.”

Leaning on one arm Dick gives a deep sigh. “Yep, sounds like Jackson alright… we're also currently pretending that he's the illegitimate son of Tim's fake uncle.”

“That works.” Bruce nods approvingly before lifting his mug to his lips again.

***

“Ugh, I don't know anymore.” Tim grumbles tossing all the books in the direction of the coffee table. “Nothing I've found in the magic books from Zatara's library have helped either. I don't know where Klarion picked this spell out from, but it's sure annoying the crap out of me. Maybe that's what he wants? Maybe if I go find him and tell him he's suitably annoyed me he'll reverse the spell.”

Jackson, laying on the opposite couch, looking the very picture of a tragic hero and for half a moment Dick even thinks that the man would do very well in a production of Hamlet, lets out a low non-committal hum. “Maybe. Of course it could always be one of those spells that teaches you a valuable lesson? Like what the future holds for you? Oh, but if it's that then you've already learned that lesson. Silly me--”

Tim grabs up the last book in reach and hurls it at Jackson with all his strength, yelling, “Fuck you, you deranged piece of shit!”

“Tim!” Dick yelps as the book smacks straight into Jackson's face.

For half a second, Dick's worried that Jackson will throw the book right back at Tim but instead he just picks it up from where it fell after hitting him and observes the cover before getting up. Deliberately he crosses the distance between them and holds the book out for Tim to take. “Really, Tim, you've got to work on your self destructive tendencies. It won't change anything. Face it, I'm inevitable.”

“I will never be you.” Tim hisses ignoring the book, his entire body trembling with anger.

Jackson smiles, wide and cold, making it feel like the temperature in the room has dropped several degrees. He leans down until he's almost in Tim's face and for the first time Tim actually shrinks back from his counterpart in fear. “Oh, Timmy, you're so innocent right now. It'd be cute if I thought you had any chance. Let me give you a little glimpse into your future.”

Dick should put an end to this right now, he should take Tim and leave, but he's rooted to the spot by nothing more than Jackson's demeanor. If the bastard felt like it he could snap Tim's neck and there's nothing Dick could do to stop it. He prays to whatever deity might be listening that the thought hasn't entered Jackson's mind. Damn, it feels far too uncomfortably like Dick's dealing with a hostage situation.

Jackson keeps all his focus on the younger version of himself in front of him as he begins his monologue. “People around you are going to start dropping like flies, you will disappoint the ones who remain so badly that they'll want nothing more to do with you, Gotham will turn into a cesspit worse than it ever was before the Bat and when you finally decide to do something about it it'll be too damn late. And you know what? Everything that happens, every death, every fall from grace, every catastrophe, every bit of it? It's all going to be entirely your fault.”

Seeing Tim's hands close into fists Dick struggles desperately to find his voice and protest Jackson's treatment of the boy. He doesn't make it in time. Tim dodges around Jackson suddenly, without meeting resistance, and vanishes into the dark hallway before Dick can find anything to say. Jackson just watches him go, the creepy grin replaced by a look of apathy. After a moment he sighs and stands up straight tossing the book haphazardly at the pile on the coffee table.

Dick finally finds words. “You son of a bitch.”

“Let's not go dragging my sainted mother into all this, Dick.” Jackson responds, sarcastically.

Gritting his teeth, Dick tries to hold back his temper. “Why the hell do you treat him like that? We've already established that we're from different universes! For all you know Tim's already averted a future like yours! I don't care what you say, nothing is inevitable! You're just an ass!”

“You think I like any of this?” Jackson growls, his posture turning defensive as he wheels on Dick. “You think I like being here looking at him almost every day? Knowing that he's here surrounded by all of you and he's not even fucking appreciating what he's got? He needs to be reminded that everything he has could be taken from him in a moment of complacency. And you know what? Maybe I don't want that to happen to him? Maybe I wanna live with the knowledge that at least one version of me isn't completely alone? Maybe I want to know that he won't ever be driven to sell his soul to Ra's al Ghul and live in that hell for three fucking years. Maybe… maybe I want just one universe where Tim Drake ten years from now doesn't wake up every damn morning choking back screams because every night he watches his friends and family die all over again and he can't get it out of his damn mind.”

All the anger leaves Dick as he watches Jackson's shoulders slowly slump his head bow, his hand reach up to tangle his fingers in his hair. The man's voice so vehement at the beginning just drifts into defeat as he whispers a final statement. “I'm so tired.”

Before he can stop himself, Dick wraps his arms around the older version of his brother. For a moment, it's like he's holding Tim and he can forget that this man is two years his elder. “I'm sorry, Timmy, I'm so sorry.”

Jackson doesn't fight the embrace, just leans his head against Dick's shoulder and stays there silent while Dick talks. “It shouldn't be that way. I'm sorry…”

“It's not your fault.” Jackson mumbles against Dick's collarbone.

Dick leans his cheek against the top of Jackson's head, noting with despair that the man's hair is much less well cared for then it looks. He's thinner than he appears to be too, his style of clothing and apparent bulk compared to his younger counterpart is deceptive. It hurts to know that this is who his little brother becomes in so many universes. He almost can't bring himself to speak his next sentence. “I'm sorry about everything that happened to you, Tim… I am,… but you can't let that make you lash out at younger you, okay? He's just as scared of becoming like you as you are of it happening and… our Tim almost killed himself over the issue once already… I don't want that to happen again. So, let me worry about keeping him on the straight and narrow, okay? You don't have to bear that burden.”

He pushes Jackson back a bit and tries to catch his eye through the shield of long hair. “You just focus on enjoying the time you've got with us now… and maybe try not to kill anybody.”

Jackson huffs, quiet but amused. “No promises… Batcow's on my list.”

“I will not be surprised if you and Jason are best friends after like one conversation.” Dick says, trying out a smile. “I should go see if Timmy's okay… love you, okay?”

The young man rolls his eyes. “I'm not your little brother anymore, Dick. Go.”

“You'll always be my little brother.” Dick plants a kiss on Jackson's forehead, which apparently is the most surprising thing to happen because Jackson jerks back and gives him a look of confusion. Dick ignores it and gives him a grin. “Even if you are older than me.”

He doesn't give Jackson a chance to respond.

***

Tim, this time's Tim, is fine. Apparently halfway down the hall Jason had caught him and dragged him to one of the sitting rooms. From there he somehow ended up wrapped up in blankets and cuddled against Jason's side on the couch, where he'd dozed off. Jason grins at Dick's expression of surprise. “What?”

“Just… nobody can get him to sleep like that.” Dick says, shaking his head as he sits down in the armchair nearest Jason. “How'd you do it?”

Jason gestures nonchalantly with the hand not currently wrapped around Tim's shoulders. “I was just my usual charming self…”

“You threatened him, didn't you?” Dick hums a smile hovering about his face. “Honestly, Jason…”

The younger vigilante holds up his hand for silence and responds. “I did not threaten him… not this time. Kid doesn't need that right now… What even happened? I didn't exactly ask him.”

Dick groans. “Jackson gave him the whole stupid spiel again.”

“Ah, the 'I'm inevitable' speech?

***

“So I told him he was an idiot and we fucking wasted thirty minutes because he wouldn’t just accept that I knew what I was talking about, ya know?” Jason huffs and throws a rubber ball against the nearest wall angrily as he rants to Jackson. “Drives him up the wall that I don’t just roll over and accept his word as law like the rest of you do in this time.”

Jackson glances back over his shoulder at him. “Do you honestly think I always did what he said, Jay?”

“Sure seems like it from where I stand.” Jason gestures angrily with one hand. “Timbit always just goes ‘yes, sir!’ to whatever stupid ass instructions Bruce gives him. He’s like a goddamn puppy.”

He absolutely did not expect that to earn him an abrupt bout of doubled over laughter from Jackson. “Oh, no, Jason. Jason, have you ever followed up with Tim after some of those missions? Because let me tell you when I was In Tim’s shoes, under tutelage of Bruce, I was an absolute little shit. I’d say, ‘Yes, sir, Mr Batman, sir’ and then just run off and do things my own way anyhow or I wouldn’t ask him in the first place.”

Jason frowns. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an older concept I have floating around in various forms since I read the first Titans Tomorrow arc of the Tim, Conner, Cassie, Bart iteration of the Teen Titans. Anyhow I haven't messed with it in a while and my headcanons/perception of the characters has changed quite a bit so some parts of it really show their age. I hope you enjoyed it anyhow!


	17. So We Stick Together Despite It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various snippets of an AU where Steph starts hanging out with Jason first, then manages to wrangle things around so Jason and Tim become friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: Various points between February 2017 and June 2018

“I just wanna know why you guys are all so stinking hard on him, ya know?” Steph mumbles leaning on the back of Tim's chair. “I mean, you've pretty much told me you don't totally disagree with his methods. And I get the killing thing makes you all iffy it makes me iffy too, but he doesn't seem like that bad a guy. Maybe if you just talked to him.”

Tim slams his hands down on the desk and stands up, dislodging Steph from her spot and nearly making her fall over. “I have to go.”

“Are you really that against just talking to him?” Steph questions crossing her arms. “Because I thought you were Mr 'I am Not the Bat!'”

He doesn't look at her as he heads for the window. “It's not that… Do what you want. Just be careful.”

“Tim… Tim, it's not gonna matter if it's just me he's on speaking terms with.” Steph pleads, she needs him to be on board with this. For that matter she needs to know why he doesn't want to be. “If it's just about the killing thing then--”

“It's not.” Tim stops on the windowsill with his head bowed and his posture stiff. “I… dammit, Steph, I don't want to talk about it. Do what you have to do and I'll support you but don't blame me if trusting him blows up in your face, okay?”

Before Steph can argue, Tim disappears through the window. Rolling her eyes, Steph slumps against the desk and crosses her arms. “Fine, I'll do this myself.”

***

“Like how many Wayne kids are there now?” Jason asks, with an exaggerated wave of the hand. “I keep expecting to see posters stuck up around town 'Come Join the Wayne Family! We've got fudge!' or some shit.”

Steph reclines against the arm of the couch. “Well, I do like fudge.”

“Well fuck, is that how everybody after me got recruited?” Jason laughs before grabbing another slice of pizza from the box.

After thinking about it for a second, Steph responds with. “Pretty much, except for Tim…”

“Oh yeah.” Jason's eyes narrow with a bit of suspicion in them. “So how would you describe Replacement's recruitment?”

Steph doesn't flinch. “Essentially like he broke into their house, made himself at home, and took the fudge without caring what they thought.”

Jason is obviously trying not to laugh at the thought. “Yeah okay… that sure does sound like the little fucker. You know I tried to kill him like three times? Does he have a deal with death or something?”

“He told me once that he's been through so much hell the devil's sick of seeing him.”

***

Jason's never moved so fast as when Steph drags a beaten and fear gassed Tim Drake into her living room after he'd been waiting there for their usual movie night. He's on his feet and heading for the medkit. “What do you need? Is your antidote up to date?” 

“Bandages and disinfectant. Yes, left corner pocket! Hurry!” Steph responds, urgently, holding Tim close to her and preventing him from moving at all. “I can't hold him long.”

Jason grabs the med kit and sets it down beside her before grabbing the replacement up in his arms and holding him tightly. “Switch. Easier this way.”

It's harder than Jason expected to hold on to an injured and terrified Red Robin, but he manages, despite getting bitten, twice. Steph administers the antidote and it take a few minutes but the kid finally relaxes a bit. In the next minute the brat's breathing evens out and he falls asleep. One hopefully free of dreams. Jason lays the kid down on the couch and looks at the bite marks on his arms. “So I guess movie night's off?”

Finishing her work on the damaged resident of her couch, Steph laughs and slumps down on the floor. “Sorry, we can still hang out if you want though? He'll be out for a few hours. We can play video games and order pizza.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jason says sitting down on the only other piece of furniture in the room, an old footstool that Steph had apparently acquired from a yard sale and had Alfred patch up because she felt bad for it. “What even happened? With Re… Tim, I mean?”

A scowl takes over her face. “Ex-boyfriend here thought it'd be a great idea to take on Scarecrow without back up or telling anybody what the hell he was doing, because he's doing the whole 'I'm being angsty and having a fight with B' thing recently, which BTW we know the fight happened, but not a damned one of us has any idea what it was about. Anyhow, so he goes after Crane and, surprise, the guy has like fifty goons. Tim's reaction? 'I can take 'em.' So by the time he realizes he's in deep shit, and sends me an SOS, he's already getting the crap beat out of him. By the time I actually get there, Crane's decided it's no fun to just let the thugs turn him into tenderized meat and sprays him in the face with fear toxin. Bam! I get there. Take out the thugs with a smoke bomb, rescue my idiot ex-BF, I was gonna drag his sorry ass to the cave, but then I think, he sent the SOS to me not B or N so he's probably trusting me not to do that. So he's starting to hallucinate, I'm freaking out, and the only thing I can think to do is drag him back to my apartment. Thanks for being here by the way, I don't think I could have handled him on my own.”

“No prob, Blondie.” Jason waves off the gratitude and doesn't miss the look of quiet concern she gives the sleeping vigilante. “He's gonna be okay, you know. Even if it's a new batch of fear toxin the antidote will at least have some effect. If something goes wrong Alfie and Leslie are just a call away.”

Steph snorts. “Alfred I might call, but, tip for you if you ever get on his good side, don't ever call Leslie unless you're willing to sit through an explosive six hour argument on methods and morality. Last time I made that mistake I had to call Dick to break it up.”

“Seriously? He fights with Leslie? What the hell?” That's worth an eyebrow raise. “Is there anybody this jackass isn't constantly in a fight with?”

She has to think about it. “Um, Alfred, me, Cass, and… maybe the Titans? Him and Bart might be arguing about stolen marshmallows right now, I think that's about it though. Damian hates him and the feeling's mutual. Dick doesn't know they're fighting. Bruce and Leslie are both justified. I don't know what his beef with B is but I know it's justified.”

“Damn, this kid'd fight Superman if you gave him half a chance, wouldn't he?” Jason says and, fuck if he's not expecting it when she nods.

She takes Tim's hand and squeezes it. “Can, has, would probably again. He's pretty close with the Kents but Clark pissed him off once and all hell almost broke loose. If Bruce and Conner hadn't gotten in the middle of it, pretty sure Tim would have gone after the Man of Steel himself.

***

They're in the kitchen a few hours later, munching on pizza and laughing at each other's dumb jokes when Tim shuffles in. Bleary eyed and obviously exhausted the kid barely glances in Jason's direction before plopping down on the nearest chair and grabbing a slice of pizza.

Steph immediately reaches across the distance and squeezes the kid's pale forearm. “How're you feeling?”

“Shitty.” He responds, automatically. “Thanks for saving my ass.”

She smiles. “Anytime, nerd. Thank Jay too, he helped.”

Tim finally, really looks at Jason. His expression totally blank, but it's clear that he's on guard and his gaze seems a lot sharper than it was then when he first walked in. At first it looks like Tim will refuse to obey Steph's request, then something besides suspicion and wariness flickers across his expression and he turns his attention back to the pizza like it's suddenly fascinating. “Thanks, Jace.”

“Er… yeah, glad I could help…” Jason feels so awkward right now. Someone help.

Suddenly Steph leaps to her feet. “Ah, shit! If you're up, that means it's like ten right?”

“Yep.” Jason says looking over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “That's what the shiny green numbers say. What's up?”

“I have to go pick Cass up from the airport in like five minutes. Dammit, I gotta go.” She pushes her plate with the last of her piece of pizza over to Tim and kisses his forehead gently. “Don't kill each other. I'll be back in like… thirty minutes. Tim, if you leave I swear on chocolate I will call Alfred and have him go get you. Understand?”

“Yes'm.” Tim says with a fond smile.

Then Steph is gone and it's just Tim and Jason. For a minute Jason thinks about starting up a conversation, but it's just so damn awkward, he can't think of a thing to talk about. Instead he just starts to get up. “Welp, I'll just take off then. Not like you need me here. La--”

“I kinda want to believe she's actually helping you, you know.” Tim fixes him with a glare that stops Jason in his tracks. “And if she is and you're actually getting better, that's great. I'd be happy to work with you. But if you hurt her in anyway, then believe me, Jason, I will turn you into the world's largest stain on a major highway. Got it?”

It takes Jason a minute to find a response, he's trying not to be angry at the clear lack of faith here. He did try to kill this kid like three times and one of those times was after the brat had broken him out of prison. Tim put his trust Jason once and got a batarang in his chest for his troubles once before. It's only natural that he's wary. So Jason takes a deep breath and looks the kid in the eye. “Kid, if I wanted to hurt her I'd have done it by now. She's a damn good friend and there's no way in hell I'd hurt her.”

After a lapse of silence during which Replacement's eyes narrow ever so slightly like he thinks that squinting will help him determine if Jason's lying or not, the kid finally relents and turns back to his pizza. “Alright then. Eat your pizza before I do, I'm starved.”

“Ooookay.” Jason retakes his seat and just watches the brat wolf down like six slices of pizza. “So… you and Steph… you're like dating, right?”

Tim pauses between bites and shakes his head. “Uh, no… there was this whole, she faked her death, I was a controlling jackass, and nobody believed me when I said Bruce was alive thing that kinda put a damper on the relationship.”

“To be fair, I came back from the dead and I wouldn't have believed you either.” Jason says resting his arms on the table. “Sounds like classic denial.”

“I know.” Tim says with a truckload of bitterness. “But it wasn't and I found him. No thanks to like… everyone else. Not what we're talking about. Steph and I are just friends. Actually I think she might be dating Cass… maybe. I don't ask.”

“Probably wise.” Jason mutters around a mouthful of pizza. Silence falls between them again and Jason cannot for the life of him figure out why this kid seems so comfortable with that. “She faked her death?”

Tim grimaces. “Wrong wording. Leslie faked her death. I don't feel like talking about it.”


	18. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the request of Steph, Jason visits Tim to make sure he's alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March, 2018
> 
> Brief mention of animal death, barely a blip but it's there because of the headcanon I have about Ace II (otherwise known as Dog, the mastiff, Tim's Batdog).

It's taken Jason three months to get well enough into Tim's good graces that the kid doesn't shoot him a suspicious look when he enters a room. For the first two weeks, after the fear gas episode at Steph's place when Jason had decided to try and make an effort to be more friendly, the kid had bolted whenever Jason had raised his voice at all. He still has to watch his tone sometimes. Which Jason can't really blame him for after all. He had tried to kill the kid a few times. Which is exactly why he's trying to take it slow and not push the tentative truce they've got going on.

Steph on the other hand is of course, getting too over eager. She thinks Jason hasn't noticed her not-so-subtle ploys to get him and Tim in the same room more than once a week. He's noticed. It's great and all that she's set up time for Jason to get to know the kid a bit better, but he's really not sure what she's trying to accomplish by trying to get them to be friends. He knows she's trying to pull him back into the circle – the family – but how hanging out with Tim is supposed to do that is beyond him. Nonetheless, here he is, on Steph's request, checking in on the kid because she's out of town with the Birds this week.

He's learned the hard way that trying to get through Tim's security without permission is like outright asking to get electrocuted, so he knocks. Waits a few minutes. Knocks again. Sighs, because he's gonna have to go see if the window in back is open if the little shit doesn't get his ass out here.

“'s open!” Comes the oddly groggy voice.

Jason very carefully turns the doorknob and pokes his head in carefully. “Hey, kid, Steph sent me over.”

Barely looking up from the papers surrounding him, scattered over the coffee table and the couch, Tim grunts around the pen cap he's gnawing on. “I'll text her later… you can come in you know.”

“Right…” Jason steps awkwardly inside and closes the door. This is actually the first time he's been in the proper apartment and he's not really impressed. It's fancy and looks nice, but honestly he kinda feels like he stepped into a picture in a furniture catalog. If it weren't for the mess around Tim that is. Jason inches a little closer to the kid, looking around the room as he does so. Fake plants, hardwood floors with small rugs, plain off-white walls, the most individual thing there is the fishtank. Jason pauses, staring for a long moment at the fish. “Are… are those mechanical fish?”

“Mm.” Tim confirms. “I don't have time for regular fish… or any kind of pet recently… not that I'd get one.”

Jason frowns at him. “Why not?”

“I haven't really wanted a pet since my dog died,” Tim says with a shrug, looking so incredibly detached.

Grimacing Jason just says, “Oh.”

“Hm.”

Jason finally gets close enough to peek over Tim's shoulder, figuring it's okay if the kid is letting him get this close. The papers are all related to some case or other, something about an international gang of smugglers. “Need any help?”

“No.” Tim responds, flatly. “If this is tied to who I think it's tied to then getting other people involved is the last thing I should be doing.”

That doesn't sound like something Jason should just accept, especially now that he's close enough to see the signs of exhaustion on his sort-of brother's face. “And who do you think it's tied to?”

“Ra's.” Tim answers, like he's not thinking, which considering how tired and focused he looks he's probably not thinking about anything but the case. Abruptly though he puts down the paper he's been looking at and closes his eyes looking regretful. Then he looks up at Jason and starts talking again, desperation slowly bleeding through into his voice, “Fo-Forget I said that. Not Ra's. Nobody. It's nothing anybody else needs to know about. Dear fuck, Jason, do not tell anybody about this.”

That's interesting. Jason raises an eyebrow. “Like I would talk to anybody but Steph about this shit?”

“She's like the second worst person that could possibly find out about this,” Tim says, still agitated.

Jason nods. “And the worst would be?”

“Dick.” Tim slumps back against his couch closing his eyes and groaning. “If Dick hears about this he will lock me in the cave and throw away the key until Ra's has given up. Which will do nobody any good, but he doesn't listen when I tell him that so--”

“Kid, we just skipped six steps in this conversation.” Jason interrupts trying to sort out what he's hearing. “Why… Why would Goldie freak out about you going up against Ra's?”


	19. I'll Hold The World To It's Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very early in Tim's time as Robin, Bruce discovers his tendency to fall asleep in the strangest of places and makes a promise he'll won't be able to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: March 2018

Bruce isn't blind, no matter what Tim seems to think, and he can see the way the boy rubs at his eyes before reaching for the coffee he managed to con out of Alfred. “You know that'll stunt your growth.”

Tim's freezes, fingers just beginning to loop around the handle of the mug. His expression is one of horror for a moment before slowly morphing into thoughtfulness. “That's a myth.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asks, raising an eyebrow slightly.

After another moment of thought, Tim just shrugs and picks up the mug. “So I'll be short.”

Bruce shakes his head in amusement, this kid isn't so bad. It's been about a week since Tim moved into the manor for the duration of Jack's hospitalization and Bruce is slowly getting used to this arrangement. Until now he's never had the opportunity to really learn much about Tim and his daily life as the boy seemed to prefer going home after training to staying at the manor. Now, Bruce is learning new things every day. Like Tim's obsession with coffee and over all dislike of sleep in general. He's almost always awake when Bruce goes to bed, if the sliver of light shining out from under his door is any indication, and before Bruce gets up the next day, when he can usually be found with a cup of coffee looking like he hasn't slept. It's a bit worrying, but Bruce knows how he feels. The boy just lost his mother, might still lose his father, it's natural to not want to sleep after all that's happened. Alfred had said as much when Bruce had brought the problem up to the butler, along with the fact that they may simply have to wait until he goes to sleep on his own. Bruce rather hopes that time is soon.

Tim yawns and Bruce pats his shoulder. “Head to bed.”

The boy shakes his head. “'m fine, I just need a few more minutes.”

“Tim… I'm sure it can wait.” Bruce says as gently as he can.

Without looking up from the screen, Tim monotones, “I don't have to get up for school tomorrow, it's the weekend. I can sleep in if necessary.”

Bruce sighs, because that's true and it doesn't feel right to order the boy to bed, especially if he's just going to spend the whole time awake anyway. “Don't stay up too late.”

“I'll go to bed as soon as I'm done here, promise.” Tim gives him a reassuring smile.

Heading for the stairs Bruce mumbles, “Goodnight.”

“'night!” Tim responds.

***

Bruce makes his way down to the kitchen the next morning, lured by the smell of pancakes. Sure enough Alfred is just finishing up what appears to be the first one. What a day to be alive.

“Good morning, Master Bruce.” Alfred says without turning around. “Breakfast will be ready shortly, in the meantime, I'd be obliged if you'd pop upstairs and call Master Tim down.”

Raising his eyebrows Bruce looks about to ensure that the boy isn't already there and Alfred just missed him. Of course it turns out Alfred is right and the boy is nowhere to be found. “He's usually up before me…”

“Perhaps he's finally managed to truly fall asleep?” Alfred offers hopefully.

That's a reassuring thought, but only one of several possibilities. Bruce shrugs. “I'll go see if I can find him.”

“Very good, sir.” Alfred continues cooking, while Bruce heads back upstairs. 

Tim's room is empty when he arrives. Not terribly surprising. It just means the boy is probably awake elsewhere. Bruce heads down to the library instead, he's seen Tim reading in there every once in a while and if he's not there than it's easy enough to get to the Cave to see if he's there.

The library is as empty as Tim's room and Bruce can only sigh. He really should have made sure Tim went to bed last night, but they've never had this problem before.

“No luck, sir?” Alfred asks, approaching as though he knew exactly where Bruce would be.

Bruce has lived with Alfred too long to be surprised. “None whatsoever.”

“You don't suppose he's still working, do you?” Alfred frowns in concern.

Grimacing, Bruce starts for the sitting room where the entrance to his subterranean lair is concealed. “Seems that way. Come on, let's go check.”

“Very well.” Alfred follows, dutifully.

They make there way down to the Cave only to find it empty as well. Although unlike the other places Bruce has checked there are signs that Tim has been here recently. The computer is still on, the chair looks as if it's been lazily pushed back, and a cup of cold coffee sits on the desk by the keyboard. However the young Robin is nowhere to be seen.  
Bruce does a quick sweep of the room with his eyes before calling, “Tim? Tim, are you still down here?”

There's no answer.

Alfred scowls. “Surely he has not… gone out?”

“Doubtful.” Bruce responds. There's no sign that the boy left the cave at all, so he's likely still here just, out of sight.

Walking over to the computer, Bruce grimaces at the screen saver that Tim had installed at Dick's request. A large, yellow oval with a black bat symbol at its center bounces around the screen in increasingly elaborate ways. Sometimes accompanied by a brightly colored 'R'. The 'BatComputer' did not need a screen saver, but Dick had insisted and Tim would do anything Dick asked for, even if it meant going behind Bruce's back. Bruce had left it because Barbara had threatened to withhold her assistance if he tried to change it back.

As he nears the desk he hears the sound of soft breathing coming from the small space between the desk and the wall. Slowly he peers around the computer into the small space.  
There is Tim. Curled up in a tight ball, dressed in a t-shirt and some old sweatpants with his Robin cape wrapped around him like a blanket, fast asleep. How he got back there, why he did it, or even if he was entirely conscious for the adventure are all a mystery to Bruce. “Tim… Tim, wake up.”

Not even a twitch. This is going to be difficult, Bruce is, after all, not a small man and the gap between the desk and the wall wasn't exactly a place he thought he would be having to get to, so he's going to have to find some way to wake the boy. Looking around he spots Tim's practice staff, the one without all the fancy gadgetry that makes the regular one so dangerous. This one's just a staff. Bruce grabs it and, carefully, prods Tim in the shoulder with it, while Alfred looks on with mild bemusement. “Tim, come on, I can't reach you back there. Work with me a bit.”

Finally the boy stirs enough to swat the staff away and seems to hear at least part of what Bruce had said, because he maneuvers a bit closer to the nearest opening. Just close enough that Bruce can reach in and pull him out of the tiny hideaway. Tim, luckily, isn't complete deadweight, but he's still mostly asleep when Bruce finally gets him out in the open. The adult can't see any harm in attempting his question anyway, though. “What were you doing back there?”

“Warm.” Tim responds, nodding off again even as he speaks.

Bruce sighs tiredly. “Your bed is warm too, Tim.”

“Hrm.” The boy yawns, his eyes drifting closed and his entire body swaying like he's about to just pass out standing up.

That's a cue that it may be time to take matters into his own hands. Bruce lifts Tim up into his arms and smiles when the boy falls asleep instantly. “Well… at least it's better than having to chase Dick all over the manor to get him to bed.”

“How true.” A fond smile finds its way to Alfred's face. “Poor boy, he must be exhausted. Shall we take him to his room?”

Bruce nods. “That would be best."

Alfred leads the way up the stairs and into the manor. The change in lighting makes Tim stir and he groans, turning his face towards Bruce's neck and mumbling, “But it's the weekend…”

“Go back to sleep, Tim.” Bruce orders, fighting the urge to laugh.

Tim hums and yawns. “Sleep.”

The floors creak with age and the sun filters through the windows reflecting off errant pieces of dust that float through the beams. They pass by portraits and busts of people who had lived here once long ago. Expensive pottery, ancient statues, priceless art, all of it bathed in the light of a peaceful morning. It reminds Bruce of good days, long ago. He puts those thoughts aside, though. The past is always with him, but right now he wants to focus on the present. On the slight burden in his arms and ensuring that the boy stays asleep. Heaven knows there's not much Tim needs more right now.

Alfred opens the door to Tim's room and stands aside to let Bruce through. He smiles slightly, whispering softly to Tim as Bruce carries the boy by. “Goodnight, Master Timothy.”

Tim doesn't stir. The kid is a heavy sleeper. Even as Bruce lays the boy down on the bed and tucks the blankets in around him, Tim doesn't wake. At least not completely. Bruce sighs and turns to leave when he hears a groggy murmur, obviously meant for someone else's ears, that stops him in his tracks. “'Are you going away again?”

Bruce feels his heart ache and instead of walking away he sits down on the edge of the boy's bed and carefully pets the boy's hair, murmuring in the hopes that Tim won't recognize his voice. “No, Tim, I'm never going to leave you all alone again.”

“Hm… Bruce…” Tim snuggles down further into his covers, still only half awake, in a moment though he's asleep again. Leaving Bruce with the painful implication that even in his sleep, Tim can't imagine one of his parents telling him they would never leave him.

Never. Bruce promises silently. As long as he lives, Tim will never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write a lot of Tim. I can't help it though. He's fun to write from an outside perspective and he _is_ my favorite Robin.


	20. Forcing The Issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written: April 2019

There's a dull ache that's slowly drawing him back to consciousness, helped in part by the quiet voice somewhere off to his right. At first he can't focus on the words being said, but slowly as he wakes up a bit more – regretting every minute of it thanks to the pain – the voice becomes more distinct and he recognizes it as the Replacement's, “--couple days, that's no reason to freak out… Dick, I texted you last night. Seriously, chill… Yeah, I know. Why do you think I've been avoiding him?… Yeah, okay… Look, Dick, I gotta go. Tell Alfred I said 'hi' when you get to the manor… You too. Bye”

Jason opens his eyes a crack to check out the room, he's in a small hospital room, the lights are dimmed but the sunlight through the window is enough to make him wince as his gaze sweeps right to find Replacement. The kid, it turns out, is sitting – and Jason uses that term loosely since the kid's knees are pulled up to his chest and he's turned sideways – in a small, upholstered chair, just out of arm's reach from the bed. Smart. Not that Jason could actually do anything considering how much moving sounds like the worst idea ever.

“Morning.” Replacement says lightly, making Jason jump, little fucker smirks without looking up from his cellphone. “How're you feeling?”

At first Jason considers not responding, but what the hell? “Like shit. What happened?”

“Thug broke your leg and shot you in the gut,” Replacement answers blandly. “Leslie says you're lucky to be alive.”

Jason blinks, slowly, as he thinks over his memories of the incident. “And you saved my ass, huh? Suppose you want a thank you?”

“Hell no.” Replacement snorts, indignantly.

Sneering slightly at the retort, Jason looks away, he's too out of it to beat the crap out of the little shit right now. For a minute or two Jason stares at the ceiling, then he glances over at the kid again. “The fucker who got me?”

Replacement lifts his eyes from his cellphone and raises an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“What happened to him?” Jason asks, narrowing his eyes, suspiciously.

With a quiet huff, Replacement shrugs. “He'll live. I mean who even needs kneecaps anyhow right?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “What're you even doing here?”

“Somebody had to look after your unconscious ass.” The kid taps at his cellphone's screen, sending off a message to somebody probably.

Rolling his eyes a bit Jason grumbles, “Great, so you can fuck off now.”

“No such luck I'm afraid.” Replacement sighs like he's annoyed, but there's this hint of amusement in his tone that Jason does not like. “Leslie says you need to stay off your leg for the next week at least and then you need to take it easy, so I'm under strict orders to keep an eye on you until she gives you the all clear.”

Yeah, that's not happening. “You realize I hate you right?”

Clutching at his chest Replacement gasps with mock surprise, “No, really? Have you, maybe, joined the club? I hear they get these neat little pins and there's potlucks on the second Tuesday of every month. They won’t let me join because it ‘ruins the point’ or something.”

Jason grits his teeth to stop himself from laughing, partially because that would hurt like hell right now, but also he just doesn't want to reward the brat's snark. “Fuck. Off.”

“Nah.” Replacement looks back down at his cellphone. “Speaking, Leslie also said you'll probably be ready to go home in a couple of days. I'm taking you to my place because I can disable all the surveillance there without attracting suspicion.”

“Where are my guns?” Jason growls, unable to find something more threatening to say. At least not something that will have the desired effect.

Replacement just sighs. “I took them back to your apartment the night I dragged your sorry ass he--”

“Timothy, language!” Leslie scolds as she walks into the room.

Almost immediately the kid goes very still and the smile he puts on is fake as hell. “Sorry, Leslie.”

“Of course…” Her expression is just as stiff and, wow, if there isn't a story there then Jason's on more meds than he thought. “Hello, Jason, it's been a while.”

Jason grimaces and looks away. “Yeah… guess it has… Are ya really sending me home with this little sh… surely fine young nuisance? I don't think I can handle looking at him for that long.”

“It's that or you head back to the manor and have Alfred look after you.” There's hope in her eyes, but yeah, no way is he doing that.

He shakes his head. “I'll stay with Replacement if that's my only other offer.”

“Jason!” She admonishes and he can't for the life of him think of why.

Until Replacement tells her, “It's fine, Leslie, I've been called worse. In fact, that's practically a term of endearment compared to what Damian calls me on a regular basis.”

Jason glares at him. “There's nothing endearing about you.”

“Ouch.” His tone is so flat, Kansas would think it was boring. “I'm so hurt.”

Leslie sighs before Jason can figure out a witty retort. “If the pair of you don't mind, I'd like to make sure Jason is healing properly?”

This once, Jason figures he'll let the kid get the last word. If only so he can get this over with sooner.

***

Replacement's apartment looks annoyingly neat and tidy. Makes Jason want to flip the coffee table or something. Just to mess up the aesthetic. He's being obedient to Leslie's orders though and not getting up off the couch where Replacement left him. Instead he's just trying to find the most violent thing on television to subtly threaten the little troll who's sitting at a desk in the corner of the room pretending to ignore him.

The endeavor's getting boring though. “Don't you got anything interesting to do in this pit?”

“Nope.” Well, at least he's honest.

Jason groans and shifts so he can glare at the kid around the back of the couch, which from the smirk that appears on the little shit's face seems to somehow be hilarious. “Speaking of interesting, we're not gonna have any impromptu visits from other Bats are we?”

Replacement shakes his head. “I told Babs I couldn't think properly with all the surveillance so I turned it off. She probably saw straight through that but she respects my boundaries and it'll fool just about everyone else satisfactorily.”

“Sounds like you do this shit a lot.” Jason narrows his eyes a bit. “You got something you're hiding from Daddy-Bats?”

Replacement finally looks over at him. “Plenty… but mostly it’s for his own good. And Dick’s own good.”

“I’m gonna pretend I understand that sentence,” Jason says, filling his tone with sarcasm.

Without missing a beat though, Replacement hits back. “Great, then I can pretend I explained it and we can move on with our lives.”

This damn kid. “Fine.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me if I don’t get these reports sent to the computer in the cave by midnight we will be having a late night visit from a Bat.” Replacement goes back to writing, but after a moment he speaks up again. “I’ll swing by the manor tomorrow and bring over some books. All I have here are sci-fi novels.”

Jason scowls. “You implying you know my taste in books, Replacement? For all you know I could be totally down with your trashy sci-fi.”

Replacement looks over again. “I’m implying I know because I know. Also call Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep ‘trashy’ again and see what happens.”

That makes Jason laugh and he catches Replacement smirking a bit. “


End file.
